


Freelance Good Guys: Eat Your Heart Out

by TheGreys (alienjpeg)



Series: Looming Gaia [35]
Category: Looming Gaia
Genre: Abuse, Action, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Animal Death, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Captivity, Character Death, Domestic Violence, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Fantasy, Horror, M/M, Magic, Mutilation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Torture, Vampires, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27931006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienjpeg/pseuds/TheGreys
Summary: Zeffer is on a mission to cure his vampirism. This mission leads him down a deep, dark road, to a place more hellish than he ever imagined. Is there a light at the end, or will the abyss swallow him whole?
Series: Looming Gaia [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/833844
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	1. Family Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the Looming Gaia series. More specifically, it’s part in the ‘vampire saga’. I recommend you at least read “Monster by Moonlight”, “Ghoul Beneath the Guise”, “The Aldfog Mystery”, and “Good Job” first or this one won’t make a lot of sense. As always, please heed the tags for content warnings.
> 
> For concept art, discussions, memes and more, check out the LG blog: http://www.loominggaia.tumblr.com

**[CHAPTER 1: FAMILY REUNION]**

_EARLY SUMMER, 6008_

Zeffer Vengelor wasn’t much of a sleuth. Back in his mercenary days, Evan’s lycanthrope nose did all the sleuthing for him. Yet two months of sloppy detective work had led him to what he believed to be his destination: a rural stretch of road between Frostbite Crag and the Folkvaran city of Sodergen.

Locals spoke of a seductress who haunted this road for the better part of a decade, and her description matched the person Zeffer was searching for. Supposedly a raven-haired elfenne wandered this area at odd hours of the night, dressed like a high-class city wench in a short, silken dress. She was said to be as beautiful as a nymph and just as enchanting, petite of frame and youthful of face. She was often accompanied by an elven man, perhaps her master or father, and he was no less beautiful than she.

Zeffer investigated similar suspects all over Noalen, only to leave disappointed. There was something different about this one. He could feel it in his black heart.

He began wandering up and down this road after sundown. He was cloaked in black leather armor and a loose hood that obscured his face in shadow. It was enough to hide his disease from any late-night travelers he passed. When he stopped to question them about the seductress, he cast a guise spell upon his face. The spell was only an illusion, hiding his red eyes behind a hazel façade. It made his ghastly, gray skin appear healthy and bronze as it was in his mortal days.

These travelers had no idea they were speaking to a vampire. The moment they left, Zeffer dropped his guise and moved on. He was getting closer to his target with each piece of information he collected. He was in the right region, on the right road, searching the right stretch. If all went according to plan, he would bump into the suspect at any moment.

This forested road was shrouded in total darkness at night, but that was hardly an obstacle for a vampire. Zeffer’s vision was far sharper now than it was during the day. His red eyes darted back and forth, scanning the road ahead and behind for movement. He listened closely, but all he could hear was the orchestra of crickets in the forest.

Suddenly he paused, ears twitching. The sound of trotting hooves quietly swelled up from the road ahead. Likely another trade cart, he thought, and he donned his guise in a flash. He would ask them if they had seen the seductress on their way from the east.

He could see a horse now, rising over the hill on the horizon. As it moved closer, he realized it was not pulling a cart at all. Perhaps it was a soldier? Or a bandit? Who else would be out here alone at such an hour?

Whether soldier or bandit, they were probably armed. Maybe engaging with them wasn’t the best idea. Zeffer tugged his cloak forward and kept his head down. If this stranger started a problem, he had a crossbow on his back and a thorny whip on his belt to end it.

The horse was nearly in reach. Zeffer flinched when a voice called, “Excuse me, fellow! Would you like a ride? This road isn’t safe to travel alone, especially at this hour. There are unsavory people out here, you know.”

Zeffer intended to keep his head down, refuse him and swiftly move on. But there was something about the stranger’s voice—dark as night and smooth as glass—that drew his gaze. He laid eyes upon a face that was equal parts beautiful and sickeningly familiar.

Looking back at him was Dario Dusk himself. The kidnapper, the killer, the vampiric clan master. The man who forced Zeffer to join his clan all those years ago, the very same that Evan had tried and failed to destroy. He concealed his outward ugliness behind a magical guise, and his inward ugliness behind the artificial charm of a psychopath. He was clad in a fine black and gold suit with white gloves on his hands. A brimmed hat rested at an angle on his head with a flashy red rose tucked into its band.

But his charm and fancy garments were not fooling Zeffer, and evidently, Zeffer’s guise wasn’t fooling him either. Dario’s fake brown eyes briefly flashed red, rounding in surprise. Zeffer had been preparing for this encounter for months, yet all he could do was slack his jaw and stare back.

Dario quickly turned his head this way and that, checking that the road was clear. Then he turned back to Zeffer. A calm smile spread over his face when he said, “Ah, my apologies, old friend! I almost didn’t recognize you. My, it’s been a long time since we last met, hasn’t it?”

Zeffer didn’t trust him, not for a moment. He had no idea where he stood with the Dusks after the disaster that flushed them from Taybiya. He rested one hand on the handle of his whip and replied flatly, “Twenty-five years.”

Dario’s smile remained. He leaned his elbows on the knob of his saddle and said, “How time flies, especially for men like ourselves. A quarter-century, why, that’s nothing at all! How have the years treated you since we parted, Zeffer Vengelor?”

Zeffer opened his mouth to speak, but he did not know how to answer. He couldn’t possibly tell the truth, but as a fae creature, he couldn’t lie either. The truth clawed at his tongue, itching to come out.

_I’m a vampire hunter._

_I’ve sworn vengeance on our kind because of what you did to me._

_I’m on my way to cut out your daughter’s heart._

These were all things that he could never admit. So he was decidedly vague when he replied, “They’ve been cruel and unforgiving. But this life has made me strong.”

Dario’s eyes seemed to light up. “So it has. You’re hardly the whelp you used to be. Look at you, you’re armed to the teeth!”

“It’s a dangerous world,” Zeffer told him simply.

“It is indeed,” agreed Dario, extending his gloved hand. “What I said before still stands. Why don’t you come back to my cabin for some drinks? Lilian will be over the moon when she sees you.”

Zeffer nearly refused until he heard _her_ name. So, she was alive—or undead—and Dario was offering to lead him right to her, though he had no doubt the Dusks had a trick up their sleeves. They always did. But what Zeffer told him was no lie; the hardship of unlife had truly made him strong. He hunted down and assassinated nearly every vampire left in western Noalen, and if he played his cards right, the Dusks would join them in oblivion while Zeffer enjoyed the rest of his life as a mortal.

Zeffer accepted Dario’s hand and climbed into the saddle behind him. “Thank you,” he said.

Dario nodded, tugging the reigns to turn his horse around. “Of course. Folks like us must stick together. It’s the only way we can thrive in this wretched land.”

*

The horse stepped off the trail and through the brush. It turned onto an obscure path through the trees, winding through thick bushes and branches until it stopped at a humble cabin. The small window was dark and all was quiet. Zeffer half-expected Dario to murder him here, but he simply dismounted the horse and hitched it to a lean-to on the side of the house.

Zeffer followed him through the front door. The sitting room was as dark as the forest at midnight. It was just as well, for light was only a burden to vampiric eyes. Dario closed and locked the door behind them. He hung his hat on a hook and began pulling off his gloves. He put them away in a side table drawer, sweeping a hand towards an upholstered chair when he said, “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll fetch Lilian and we can all catch up over drinks.”

Zeffer obeyed, sitting on the edge of the chair while Dario disappeared through a doorway. This modest cabin was a far cry from the Dusks’ castle back in Taybiya. The sitting room was furnished with old, mismatched furniture. Zeffer occupied one of two chairs facing the fireplace. A low table sat in front of them, and a tall bookshelf stood against the wall to his left, stuffed with all manner of old tomes.

He heard a curious sound from the doorway, like the rattling of metal chains. Voices were murmuring, too low for him to make out their words. Shortly after, Dario returned with a familiar elfenne in tow. Lilian stepped out into the sitting room and froze before Zeffer with a gasp. She was clad in a revealing silk dress and high-heeled shoes, her raven hair tied up in two conical buns atop her head. Her guise gave her such an ethereal kind of beauty that it stole the breath from Zeffer’s lungs.

She matched the locals’ description precisely. He had no doubt she was the seductress of Sodergen Road.

“Zeffy! Oh my gosh, it’s really you!” she cried. “I thought you were dead! I-I thought that monster killed you! I...”

“You’re being a poor host, Lilian. Our guest is parched. Stop wasting his time and fetch him a drink at once,” commanded Dario, sitting in the chair beside Zeffer’s.

The elfenne’s demeanor changed in an instant. Her posture straightened, hands clasping together at her waist. She paid him a shallow bow and mumbled, “I’m sorry, Mr. Dusk. Right away.”

Zeffer watched her pass into a little kitchen nook, and she said nothing more as she began pulling glasses from the cabinets. Resting his foot upon his knee, Dario turned to Zeffer and said, “I regret to say most of the clan was killed the day we parted. Those few that survived later betrayed me, so I ended them swiftly and decided to pursue a simpler life. It’s just Lilian and myself these days. We’ve made a cozy living for ourselves here in the north country.”

Lilian returned with a tray in her hands, balancing two goblets of blood. She set the tray on the table between them, then posted herself at Dario’s side like a statue. The clan master picked up one goblet and raised it for a toast. Zeffer indulged him, they clinked their glasses together and each took a sip. Zeffer tasted the distinct iron-free sweetness of fae blood, perhaps elven. There was nothing added to it that he could sense, poison or otherwise.

Dario continued, “It’s much quieter here. The bloodbags are plentiful and dumb. We may look like paupers, but I assure you, we live like kings.” He took a longer sip from his goblet before setting it back on the tray. “Now, I don’t mean to be rude, and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, Mr. Vengelor…but you seem to be struggling out here all alone. Surely you’ve thought about starting a clan of your own?”

The truth bubbled in Zeffer’s throat, threatening to ruin everything. He swallowed it down and said, “Fledglings are a nuisance. They just get in the way.”

Dario chuckled, “Seems like just yesterday you were but a fledgling yourself. But you’re certainly not wrong. This one causes enough trouble as it is…” He tipped his head towards Lilian. Her hands were clasped before her, violet eyes fixated on the floor.

“But she is a treat for the eyes, isn’t she? She can lead a man over hot coals and right into our kitchen,” he went on, smiling wryly. “They never suspect us. But then again, there’s not much competition in this region. In fact, yours is the first vampiric face I’ve seen since I did away with the traitors. They think us only a myth in these parts. The poor, stupid swine.” He chuckled to himself, reaching for his goblet again.

“But enough about our adventures,” he said. “Please, tell us about yours.”

There were many stories Zeffer could tell. He could tell them about the day he ran off with Evan and became a mercenary, or when he abandoned Evan to become a vampire hunter. He could tell them about all the clans he’d slain over the last two and a half decades, inform them they were next and kill them on the spot.

But Zeffer knew better. Dario was right, it wasn’t long ago that he was only a fledgling, and he just barely had the skills to rise beyond that title. He spent most of his undead life alone, picking up spells and knowledge from various clans before betraying them. He never stuck around long enough to rise through their ranks. As long as he had a crossbow loaded with silver bolts, he figured he didn’t need to.

Dario had mastered the ancient spells of his clan. There was no way Zeffer could overpower him, at least not without some careful planning. To take the Dusk clan down, he had to first infiltrate it and destroy it from the inside as he’d done to all the others. There was no need to be hasty. None of them were getting any older, after all.

Zeffer’s quiver of silver bolts would draw suspicion eventually. He decided to address it himself. He shrugged the quiver off his back and took out a bolt, presenting it to Dario. “You probably haven’t seen many vampires here because I’ve been _killing_ them all. I’ve wiped entire clans off the map just to get my fill. Yes, I’ve been struggling. I admit that. If we hadn’t been separated, I’d be in much better shape, I’m sure. I’ve been desperately searching for you, Mr. Dusk. Now that I’ve found you, I feel like my life can truly begin.”

Dario’s brows arched slightly, cocking his head with intrigue. He examined the bolt closely, turning it around in his hands. He nearly laughed when he said, “My goodness, little fledgling, you’ve become feral in my absence! You are correct. Had you stayed with me and remained loyal, you never once would have known hunger. Nor would you know such a savage lifestyle. This is no way for an immortal to spend their everlasting life, dear boy. The way you’ve been living, it’s simply a waste!”

He passed the bolt back to Zeffer and continued, “I do apologize for what happened at your wedding. No one could have foreseen such a tragedy. But I don’t believe it’s too late to make things right. How would you feel about joining the family again? I couldn’t possibly send you back out into the world alone, struggling as you have.”

Lilian lifted her head slightly, eyes darting between Dario and Zeffer. A glimmer of excitement sparkled behind them. Shoving the bolt back in its quiver, Zeffer extended his hand for a shake and agreed, “I’d want nothing more.”

Dario didn’t shake on it right away. Rather, he lifted a finger and added, “There’s just one condition…” His words were slow, perhaps a little hesitant. He wrapped an arm around Lilian and pulled her into his lap. “Your marriage to my night-daughter is forfeit. She thought you died years ago, understand, so do forgive her for moving on. It is her right to do so.” Lilian winced as he squeezed her around the waist. “Her love is mine and mine alone. Her body belongs to _me_. Should you cross this boundary, should you ever touch her, there will be dire consequences. I am and always shall be master of this clan, and that makes _you_ my subordinate. Do we have an understanding?”

“Of course,” said Zeffer. He extended his hand again for a shake, but instead, Dario stood up and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Welcome back, my dear boy. May you prove a valuable asset to this clan.”

Zeffer was caught off-guard by the warm welcome. He braced himself, expecting to feel a knife in his back, but no such thing occurred. Dario withdrew and sat down again, telling Lilian, “Run him a warm bath, will you? And fetch him some nightclothes from my wardrobe.”

Lilian paid him a little bow before shuffling outside. She returned with small pushcart holding a heavy water keg inside. She wheeled it through a door that Zeffer could only assume led to the washroom. Dario told him, “We’ll take you on a few easy hunts until you understand our routine. The only real threat is the Folkvar Guard, but they’re as lazy as they are stupid. They sweep the road for bandits once in a while, so make yourself scarce when they come around. If things really go south, we have a modest reserve in the cellar.” He paused. “Speaking of that, I really should give you a tour. Lilian!”

Lilian poked her head out of the washroom. Zeffer could hear water pouring into a tub. Dario said to her, “As soon as you get the bath warming, I want you to meet us in the blood-dungeon. Bring all the necessary supplies with you. Let us show Mr. Vengelor how we operate here.”

*

Zeffer followed Dario behind the cabin, where barrels and crates were stacked innocuously against the wall. Dario pushed a large, empty crate aside, revealing a trap door. He carried a key on a necklace hidden under his shirt, which he used to unlock the door, and Zeffer trailed him down the ladder to the black abyss below.

What Zeffer saw down here was typical of many blood-dungeons he’d encountered over the decades, yet it disgusted him no less. Six emaciated men—three elves, two satyrs, and a human—were being held captive. Each of them were stripped bare and gagged with cloth. Their wrists were locked in iron cuffs and suspended from the wall by chains, while their ankles were shackled to the base of the long trough they were forced to sit upon.

The sight was grim, the stench rancid, the sound of their muffled pleas distressing to Zeffer’s ears. “We only have the means to hold six at a time, perhaps seven if times are slim,” explained Dario. “We raise pigs further down the property. The swine eat the pigs, then the pigs eat the swine. It’s practically cannibalism if you ask me!” He offered an amused smile. Zeffer forced one back, but his eyes weren’t in it.

Lilian showed up then, carrying a burlap sack over her shoulder as she climbed down the ladder. A bucket full of cleaning supplies dangled from the crook of her elbow. Dario snatched the sack from her and pulled out a piece of jerky, showing it to Zeffer. “One pig can net us weeks of bloodbag-fodder. Now, they do need their occasional greens—the animals, I mean—so what we can’t harvest from the forest must be bought from merchants. I may send you to Sodergen in the near future for a little shopping trip. Can you hold your guise long enough to walk among mortals?”

“I’ve gotten by so far,” answered Zeffer.

Dario nodded. “Very well. Lilian, show him how to tend the dungeon.”

“Yes, Mr. Dusk,” said Lilian, and she set her bucket of cleaning supplies near the trough. Zeffer watched as she scrubbed the victims from head to toe with a soapy cloth, then fetched another bucket of water nearby to rinse them. The excess water spilled into the trough, then drained away with whatever filth had collected. Zeffer noticed a drainage pipe going from the side of the trough through the wall. Where exactly it drained to was unclear.

The captives’ heads and beards were shaved to stubble. Lilian spared a moment to shave one’s beard that had overgrown, then lifted his gag and began to hand-feed him the pork jerky. The man took it voraciously, nearly biting her fingers. His ribs jutted out from his skin like all the others, which indicated to Zeffer that Dario was either a stingy dungeon-master, or his victims were all terribly sick. Given the state of this dungeon, he was betting on the latter.

The stone walls were slimy with mold. There was also evidence of rats, if the tiny droppings in the corners and the gnawed toes of the victims were any indication. Zeffer had some words of advice for Dario, but perhaps it was best to keep them to himself. Six captives was already too much for just two vampires to handle. The Dusks clearly weren’t concerned with the welfare of their captives, which was obvious when Lilian discovered one of them was dead, and Dario casually told her to throw his body in the pigpen.

“Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. An opportunity for learning,” said Dario, clapping a hand on Zeffer’s shoulder. “We’ll teach you how to capture prey first thing tomorrow. Come, let’s go visit the animals.”

The corpse was so emaciated, even a petite elfenne like Lilian was able to drag it up the ladder without much effort. Zeffer tried to grab its ankles to help her, but Dario slapped his hand away and scolded, “Oh, dear boy, don’t touch that filthy thing! Let Lilian take care of it. She does so love to feed the pigs.”

They trailed behind Lilian as she dragged the body down a narrow trail by its wrists. Zeffer couldn’t see them through the tree cover, but he could hear pigs snorting and squealing in the distance. “Here, piggy-piggies! I have a snack for you!” Lilian called joyfully.

The pigs squealed louder at the sound of her voice. The vampires came to a clearing where a sizeable paddock was set up, made from bricks and wood. The walls were built so solid, Zeffer couldn’t see through them. He only saw the pigs when he stepped onto a platform of stacked bricks. He looked down into a pit that contained more pigs that it probably should have, most of them clearly sick and underfed.

The animals squealed and ran about wildly when Lilian approached. She pushed the body over the fence, and it barely hit the mud before it disappeared under the hungry swarm. “They’ll eat the bones and all,” mentioned Dario. “No evidence, no trouble.”

“They look vicious. I’d hate to fall in there,” said Zeffer. He quaked with a little shudder.

Dario waved a dismissive hand and assured him, “The worst that would happen to you is getting manure on your clothes. Lilian plays with them often and she’s never once been bitten. It seems they don’t hunger for immortal flesh.”

“Don’t be so greedy, piggies! Let the poor babies have some too!” Lilian called, leaning precariously over the fence. Something about her statement made Dario’s brows jump. He hurried up to the platform with Zeffer and peered into the pen, spotting three small piglets in the fray.

He reached over and seized Lilian by her hair. “You clearly see that they have young, Lilian, so what are you doing faffing about? Get them out of there before they’re devoured!” he snapped, shoving her against the gate when he released her hair.

“I-I’m sorry! Right away!” the elfenne stammered, tossing her shoes aside before stepping barefoot into the pen. She opened the gate just enough to squeeze through, careful not to let any pigs escape. Zeffer watched in disbelief as she stumbled through filth and gathered the piglets. The animals behaved as if she didn’t even exist, fighting over the last remains of the corpse. Lilian carried the piglets into a much smaller, simpler pen nearby.

Dario told Zeffer, “We must keep the young separated until they reach a respectable size. The strong have a nasty habit of eating the weak.” Lilian returned and picked up her shoes, smeared with filth from head to toe. Dario looked upon her with a look of contempt, shaking his head. “My god, Lilian, you’ve made a horrible mess of yourself! Don’t you set foot back in the house until you’ve washed.”

“Yes, Mr. Dusk,” she answered quietly, hanging her head in shame.

“The bath should be warm by now,” mentioned Zeffer. “She can use it before me, if she wants.”

Dario shook his head and replied, “No, no, dear boy. That is not your decision to make. Lilian has her own special place in this clan, just as you have yours and I have mine. She will wash in the creek and then she will resume her nightly chores. She’s already behind schedule as it is.”

His head snapped to Lilian, hanging her head by his side. “Why are you still standing here? Did you not hear a word I said?” he barked. Lilian immediately paid him a bow, muttered some subservient acknowledgement and then ran off down the trail.

The clan master beckoned Zeffer to follow as he walked after her. “Do forgive her,” he sighed. “Her entry into this clan was…problematic, to say the least. If it weren’t for my constant nagging, she’d scarcely survive a day. I don’t know what she’s told you about me in the past, but you should take her words with a grain of salt. The poor thing is quite troubled in the head, you see.”

“She’s always spoken well of you,” Zeffer told him with all honesty, and his words surprised even himself. Seeing what he’d seen tonight, he was starting to realize just how troubled the elfenne really was.

“Ah, excellent. As she should.” Dario grinned. “I care for her dearly. The bond between a vampire and his night-children is like no other. My blood runs through her heart, and so she’s become a little part of me. I have no doubt she feels the same way about you.”

Zeffer held his tongue. Dario’s tone was calm, but there was something behind his eyes—an ominous, threatening energy that he didn’t trust one bit. “She’s a sultry thing,” Dario went on. “But she is also sheltered and ignorant. It’s the sacrifice I’ve had to make to keep her safe in this world of pigs. She may behave in ways you find strange, or even wholly inappropriate. She is dumb, and impressionable, and easily confused…and in her confusion, she just may forget who her true love is…”

Zeffer’s intuition proved him right when Dario suddenly seized him by the chin, forcing him to look into his eyes. The clan master growled, “It is _your_ responsibility to remind her. Are we clear?”

Zeffer froze, transfixed by the intensity of Dario’s eyes. They were glowing bright red, burning straight through his guise. He struggled to nod in the clan master’s grip and creaked, “I have no intention of bedding her, Mr. Dusk. I couldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”

Dario stared at him in silence for a moment more, as if reading his face. Finally, he released Zeffer’s chin and continued down the path. “Good,” he said, tone flippant. “Then we should have no conflict here. Keep proving your loyalty to me and I’ll reward you with something special.”

*

The washroom was a small space with walls and floors of stone. A porcelain chamber pot occupied one dusty, neglected corner. It clearly hadn’t been touched in years, yet the porcelain tub was scratched and discolored from frequent use. The tub sat on a platform with a space below, where logs were burning to heat the water. Zeffer saw a wash basin on the sink filled with clean water. The mirror that once hanged above it was broken, leaving only the frame behind.

It seemed the cabin did not have plumbing, but there was a plug in the tub that would drain the water somewhere once pulled. Zeffer could only imagine the tub and the captives’ trough drained in the same place. This cabin was far older than a quarter-century, but he could tell that Dario and Lilian had retrofitted it with some features from their Taybiyan castle, such as water heating and the drainage system.

He didn’t care to know what they’d done with the original owners. The pigs probably knew something about that.

Zeffer disrobed, stripping off his armor and then his cotton clothes beneath. He set everything just outside the door like he was told and then climbed into the tub. The warm water enveloped his cold, undead body like a liquid hug. He hadn’t known comfort like this in a very long time.

He relaxed his body, but not for long. He jumped upright when the door cracked open without warning. Lilian’s hand snaked through and hung a long nightshirt on a hook before closing it again. Zeffer let out a sigh and slumped back down in the tub. He was still waiting for the Dusks to betray him. He had to remind himself that they had little reason to be on bad terms with him. They had no idea he’d been in cahoots with Evan the last time they met.

As far as the Dusks knew, a loose werewolf had randomly crashed Lilian and Zeffer’s wedding, and Zeffer had nothing to do with it. They probably didn’t even know the werewolf was Evan. The chaos that night had come on so suddenly, Zeffer himself had barely made it out alive despite being privy to the whole thing.

He finished his bath and slipped on the white, cotton nightshirt hanging on the door. It had long, flared sleeves and dangled almost to his knees. When he left the washroom, he found his freshly-washed clothes and armor hanging over the crackling fireplace to dry. Dario was sitting in one of the chairs in front of it, wearing a similar nightshirt in black. He read a book as Lilian kneeled before him and massaged his swollen legs.

The layered curtains were drawn, blocking out the first rays of morning sun. Dario glanced at Zeffer, snapped his book shut and stood up. “It’ll be morning soon,” he said. “Lilian and I will be retiring for the day. I regret that we don’t have much space for you here, but we will begin construction on a new room soon. In the meantime, you may sleep on the chaise.”

He swept his hand towards the long piece of furniture sitting against the back wall. It was an old upholstered thing, with a pillow at one end and a fur blanket draped over it. Dario added, “Or the chairs, or the floor, or whatever you prefer. Just know that you are _not_ permitted in the bedroom at any time, for any reason, nor may you help yourself to the kitchen. I will _tell_ you when you may rest and eat.”

“Understood,” said Zeffer, taking a seat on the chaise.

Dario wrapped an arm around Lilian’s waist and began leading her to the bedroom. “Sleep well, dear boy. We will meet again at sunfall,” he said, then he and Lilian disappeared through the door. Zeffer heard a lock sliding shut, and with it, his window of opportunity to assassinate Dario in his sleep. If only he knew how to become mist, he thought.

It was no matter. He could bide his time for years, if it came down to it. He had played this game of deception and betrayal many times with many clans, though the Dusks were admittedly a different breed than the backwater ex-slaves Zeffer had dealt with in the past. Dario was cunning, dastardly, and unpredictable in the worst ways.

Zeffer found it impossible to sleep. His keen elven ears picked up disturbing noises coming from the bedroom. Dario was muttering something, his words muffled by the heavy oak door. Zeffer jumped at a sudden crack or slapping sound, and Lilian’s whimpering followed. Zeffer heard several more slaps after that. Lilian’s sobbing continued off and on for the better part of an hour before gradually calming, and then the cabin fell deathly silent.

Dario was terrorizing her in there. The sound of it alone made Zeffer squirm, despite how much contempt he had for the elfenne. Even she, who had robbed him of his mortality, did not deserve to spend eternity with a monster like Dario. Perhaps time was critical after all, Zeffer thought. The sooner he ended her life, the sooner she would be relieved of her pitiful existence, and the sooner the world would be relieved of Dario.

*

Zeffer eventually fell asleep with one eye open. He only rested for a few hours before the sun went down and the Dusks woke up. He snapped awake when he heard the bedroom door open. Lilian stepped out, clad in flat slippers and a silky, white lingerie gown. She appeared to be wearing makeup, but it was likely just an illusion of her guise. The Dusks vainly maintained their mortal guises as much as possible, even in their own home.

Zeffer realized he should probably do the same. He quickly concealed his undead pallor in her presence, struggling through his grogginess. Lilian greeted him with a polite bow and a soft, “Good night, Mr. Vengelor. I hope you slept well.”

Dario stepped out just then, wearing a silk robe. He kissed Lilian’s cheek and gently pushed her towards the fireplace. “Start warming a bath for me,” he ordered. Lilian muttered an acknowledgment and obeyed, keeping her head down as she gathered wood from the stack near the fireplace. She took it into the washroom as Dario took his place in his favorite chair, resting his feet on the ottoman before it.

“She will have breakfast ready soon,” he told Zeffer. “After that, I will assign chores, then we shall head out for our hunt. There is still much to teach you.”

“Thank you for welcoming me back,” said Zeffer. “You had no obligation to do so.”

“No, I didn’t,” agreed Dario, swiping a book off the side table. “But I’m a good judge of character, and you seem like you’re worth your salt. I think we’ll benefit eachother mutually. Lilian is fine company, but she’s as delicate as a flower. Having a stronger set of hands around surely wouldn’t hurt.”

While the bath was warming, Lilian prepared three large goblets of blood, then the vampires sat down at the dining table for their liquid breakfast. After his first sip, Dario began, “Now, Mr. Vengelor…Before we head out today, there are two very important rules you must be aware of. As my subordinate, it is not your place to tell me ‘no’ or ask me ‘why’. Those are forbidden words in this clan, do you understand?”

Still a bit groggy and starved, Zeffer smirked as he lifted his goblet to his lips. “No, why?” he jested. The joke did not go over well. An instant later, Dario reached across the table and backhanded him across the face. The goblet flew from his fingers and shattered on the floorboards, spilling blood across the sitting room in a violent arc.

“Consider that a warning,” Dario told him sharply, then pointed at the mess and ordered, “Lilian, clean that up.”

Lilian set her own goblet aside and rushed to fetch a towel from the kitchen nook. As she sopped up the mess, Dario continued, “I am many centuries your senior. I have turned mortals to immortals and trained fledglings into masters. I will not be insulted by ignorant children! Do not question or refuse me, simply trust that I know what is best for you. If you can do that, you will thrive in this world. But if not…”

He glared deep into Zeffer’s eyes, swirling the blood in his goblet. “…you will die like a pig. I have mastered the power of my dark gift, and I could destroy you before you ever saw it coming. Do not forget that, Mr. Vengelor.”

“Right. Uh, my apologies. I didn’t mean to offend,” said Zeffer, dabbing at the bloodstains on his nightshirt.

“I know you didn’t,” replied Dario. He leaned back in his chair, tone suddenly light and casual. “I expect you to stumble from time to time. But you will not fall, so long as you let me catch you. Tonight will be an excellent training opportunity. In fact, you can start by tending the dungeon. Go on and get dressed. Lilian and I will finish up here.” He pulled his necklace off and tossed it to Zeffer.

Zeffer caught it and obeyed without question, passing Lilian on the floor as he plucked his clothes off the line above the fireplace. He put on his dark green tunic, pants, and boots before letting himself into the cellar. He pushed the empty crate aside and used Dario’s key to open the door. The stench that rolled out nearly made him retch, and he had to remind himself that he didn’t have to breathe as he climbed down the ladder. It was an old habit from his mortal life he’d been clinging on to, if only to feel less like an abomination.

Five captives were chained to the trough at one end of the room, and at the other stood a wooden shelf filled with all manner of supplies. Zeffer started by scrubbing the victims clean, then used a knife to slice open their wrists. Their blood was funneled into empty bottles. Zeffer added a dash of powdered preservative before corking them to keep the blood from coagulating.

The preservative was called “languidizer” and it was present in every dungeon Zeffer had ever tended. There was a basket of dragon byproducts like teeth and scales, and a bag of black salt on the shelf right next to a mortar and pestle. Some of these ingredients, when ground and brewed in a specific way, made up the languidizer.

Once the blood was harvested and the captives were fatigued with its loss, Zeffer wrapped their wounds, then gave them food and water. They ate voraciously from his hand like animals. He fed the first two in line, then arrived at the sole human. Pulling down his gag, Zeffer offered him a strip of pork jerky. The man spit the offering onto the floor and rasped, “Please…have mercy…let me die…let me die…”

Zeffer swiped the jerky off the floor and offered it again. “Eat,” he ordered.

Once again, the man spit it out and moaned, “No more…mercy, please…!”

“You think _this_ is suffering?” snapped Zeffer, picking up the jerky again. “I can make it a lot worse for you, bloodbag!”

The man let out a long, rasping sound like a sob. His words were barely coherent when he said, “S-sick bastard…you got no mother…you got no heart…!”

Zeffer was no stranger to captives throwing sass at him, even biting his fingers and spitting in his face. But in that moment, something about the man’s words stung him deep in the pits of his soul. Zeffer stood rigid before him, unable to look at him for a long moment. Finally, he shoved the gag back in the man’s mouth, then ripped the gauze wrap off his left wrist.

He had made a small incision just below the shackle to harvest blood. He picked up the harvesting knife and slashed deeper, cutting through vital veins. The captive let out a muffled cry through his gag. It was not gruff like a cry of pain. It was bright like a cry of long-awaited relief, of joy and gratitude. Though he knew no tourniquet would be enough to save him, Zeffer wrapped the wound again to hide the evidence of his crime.

“You weren’t long for this world anyway,” he said. He pointed the knife towards the other captives and told them, “Tell anyone what you saw, and I swear on my everlasting life, I will hunt down your loved ones and we’ll have a fucking family reunion right here in this dungeon. Are we clear?”

The remaining three captives replied with frantic nods and muffled agreements. The human was already losing consciousness, surely due for death in a matter of minutes. Zeffer gathered the filled bottles into a basket and carried them back to the cabin.

*

The road to Sodergen was well-travelled, even in the dark of night. It was a main artery that carried soldiers, migrants, refugees, and traders between major cities all over Folkvar Kingdom. “Migrants and refugees are easy pickings,” explained Dario. “They have no connections here, no kingdom to run to, and no will to approach an officer for help. The catch is, they usually don’t have a coin to their name. If it’s money we’re after, we should focus on blue collar travelers. Traders, woodsmen and the like.”

The trio of vampires rode up and down the road on their ash-colored horse, searching for downtrodden folks and working men. Dario had a devious pitch for every type of victim. It was obvious he’d been doing this for a very, very long time.

Zeffer crept through the woods in his leather armor and his crossbow in hand, keeping well out of sight. He watched Dario through the trees, riding down the road with Lilian planted in front of him in the saddle. He was wearing his usual black suit and hat, and she in a scant, rose-colored dress and high-heeled shoes. They looked out of place on this backwater stretch of dirt road, like wealthy folks passing through from one of the big cities.

Zeffer had half a mind to pull the trigger and fire a silver bolt right into Dario’s head, then and there. But he was hardly a perfect shot, and if he missed, the whole plan was ruined. Dario would kill him on the spot. So Zeffer kept his finger off the trigger and stuck to their mission for now, watching for wild predators and prey alike.

Two human men were coming down the road on horses. Their loud chatter swelled up from the horizon, catching Dario’s interest. They both sounded like they’d indulged in a few drinks that day. They were clad in worn work clothes and muddy boots, likely coming back from the inn and tavern further down the road. Lanterns dangled off their saddles, lighting the path before them in an orange glow.

Dario respectfully removed his hat as he approached them. “Good evening, gentlemen! You look like you’ve been working hard,” he greeted.

One of the men replied, “Oh, yeah! My brother and I just hit the tavern after twelve hours at the lumber yard! I’m dead on my feet!” He gestured to the nearly-identical man beside him.

The clan master grinned. “Well, it’s obvious you’ve both indulged a bit. You shouldn’t be travelling in such a state. Not on this dangerous road, at this time of night!”

“Aw, we’re fine!” the man’s brother told him. He reached over and slugged the other in the shoulder. “This dumb ox is drunk more often than not—it’s the natural state of ‘im!”

The two shared a loud, drunken laugh. Dario placed his hands on Lilian’s shoulders and said, “Please, you’re in no state to be making these kinds of decisions for yourself. I’m just a concerned citizen, fellows. My daughter and I come from a dangerous city, and we know well the depravity of men. Why don’t you come stay at our little vacation home? You can sleep off the alcohol, have a bite to eat and face the wives sober tomorrow. What do you say?”

The first man replied, “Thanks, mister, but we’ll be alright. Our town ain’t but an hour away. ‘Sides, this lug don’t even have a wife. Only a homely old troll would hitch up with a face like that!” He gave his brother a shove and they shared another laugh.

Dario discreetly squeezed Lilian’s shoulders. That was her queue, and she batted her lashes when she said softly, “Oh, I very much disagree! What a rugged, strong-looking man he is! What’s your name, sir?”

The brother’s brows arched, caught off-guard by her reaction. He was fair and ruddy of complexion, with an overgrown beard and a face like a flat-mawed mongrel. “Oh, uh, that’s very kind of you, ma’am! My name’s Oskar. This is my brother, Viktor,” he said.

“What lovely names,” cooed Lilian. She twirled a lock of raven hair around her finger and beckoned them, “It would be a terrible shame if something bad happened to a couple of good men like yourselves. You don’t want to make me cry, do you? Won’t you please come back with us, just for a night? I’ll keep you plenty warm…”

She caught the men off-guard once again. They turned to one another, wearing surprised grins, and began to laugh. “Woah there!” chuckled Viktor. “Might wanna keep a leash on that daughter of yours, mister! She’s a wild one!”

Dario regarded them with a calm smile and said, “Oh, come now, why spoil her fun? I’m a successful man, as you can see. My Lilian is set for eternity. But we realize how privileged we are, and we do enjoy sharing our excess with the common man. This is an opportunity I’d hate for you boys to miss!”

“So, what, you’re just a couple of swingers lookin’ for folks to party with?” asked Oskar. “Hey, I could go for that! I’ll catch you tomorrow, Viktor…”

But Viktor reached out and grabbed his brother’s sleeve, telling him, “No, no, you drunk moron! I ain’t lettin’ you get yourself into trouble again!”

“It would be much better if you came with him, Mr. Viktor,” said Lilian. “I can keep you both warm at the same time. Your wife doesn’t have to know. You can tell her you slept at the inn. A little lie isn’t much for a human, right?” She punctuated herself with a wink.

“Look,” began Viktor, “you seem like nice enough people, but me ‘n my brother are simple country folk. That perverted Matuzan stuff just isn’t our way.”

“Speak for yourself!” blurted Oskar, struggling in his grip.

Viktor yanked the reigns of Oskar’s horse back and told the vampires, “We really ought to get goin’ now. You folks have a nice night.”

With that, the brothers turned and disappeared down the long, dark road. The light from their lanterns faded away over the horizon. Dario led his horse to the side of the road. He grabbed Lilian by the hair and dismounted, dragging her down with him. She whimpered and squirmed as he and began slapping her repeatedly across the face, hiding his abuse in the shadows of the forest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…!” cried Lilian. Zeffer fought his way through the thicket, catching up with them just as Dario’s assault came to an end. He released the elfenne’s hair and instead grabbed her jaw, pulling her close to his face.

He growled through his teeth, “We had them right in our clutches until you opened your stupid little mouth! You came on far too strong, Lilian! That’s why they refused you! You are to behave like a _lady_ , not a diseased whore!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Dusk! I shouldn’t have offered myself so soon, I understand now!”

“See that you do!” the clan master hissed, paying her one more half-hearted slap before releasing her jaw. The slap made Zeffer wince more than she. Lilian barely acknowledged it, sniffling as she picked up the shoe that had fallen off when she was yanked from the saddle.

“We’re supposed to be teaching our fledgling,” Dario went on sharply, sweeping a hand towards Zeffer. “And what did he learn just now? That we’re incompetent fools? Tell me, Lilian, does it amuse you to embarrass me this way? Do you think it’s _funny_?”

“No, Mr. Dusk, not at all!” Lilian told him, fixing up the hair he’d pulled loose from her cones. “I never want to embarrass you, ever! I love you so much! I only want to please you! I’ll do better next time, I will! I promise!” Her words were desperate yet earnest, in a way that sent chills down Zeffer’s spine.

As she fixed herself up, Dario turned to Zeffer with a shake of his head. “Please excuse her,” he sighed. “I think she’s just nervous. She’s only ever worked with me. She’s not used to having an audience.”

Zeffer didn’t know what to say. He was afraid to open his mouth, lest whatever come out lead to more grief for Lilian. Instead, he replied with nothing more than a nod and a grunt. The urge to put a bolt through Dario’s head was growing so strong, he forced himself to unload his crossbow until another victim crossed their path.

Once she finished primping, Lilian turned to Dario and asked, “Does my hair look okay?”

With uncharacteristic tenderness, the clan master licked his fingers and began smoothing her stray strands. “Strengthen your guise,” he said. She did so, and Zeffer saw the faint smears of dirt on her dress disappear. So too did her unruly strands of hair, and her porcelain flesh seemed to glow brighter in the darkness.

Zeffer was impressed. With his own guise, he could barely pass as a mortal with a bad case of the flu. Meanwhile Lilian and Dario could turn themselves from walking corpses into flawless dolls with barely a shred of effort.

“There we are,” said Dario, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Well done, dear girl. Your beauty could melt a man’s heart. Now, let’s get back out there and try again.” He climbed onto the horse, pulling Lilian back in the saddle with him. Before they continued down the road, Dario told Zeffer, “You’re doing well so far. Stay out of sight, and if things get out of control, you know what to do.”

Zeffer nodded, and the horse trotted off down the road. He crept through the trees after it, keeping a respectable distance. Before long, they approached a family of five goblins travelling north by foot. There were three adults and two children, every one of them dressed in tattered garb. It was obvious they were refugees from the Serkel Desert, given their accents and the loose style of their clothes.

Dario stopped his horse in the middle of the road, blocking their way. The goblins shielded their children as they huddled together. Five sets of eyes stared up at him, rounded in fear, but Dario raised his gloved hand to show he meant no harm. He slowly removed his hat and greeted, “Good evening, my fae friends. You look like you’ve been on the road for some time. Have you come from Serkel, by chance?”

The goblins exchanged anxious looks and mutterings with one another. An older female replied, “We are just travelling. We want no trouble.”

“Oh, neither do I,” Dario assured them. “I only ask because believe it or not, I’m Serkelite myself! I come from Barha, originally. The journey through the Noso Peninsula is nothing to be scoffed at. You must all be so tired…so hungry…”

The goblins flinched when he reached into his saddle bag, but he did not pull out a weapon. Rather, he found a handful of dry rice tied up in a burlap sack. “Here, I offer you this grain. From one migrant to another,” he said.

The goblins shared another round of mutterings. Then, the sole adult male paid him a bow of gratitude as he took the sack. “You are very kind, sir. We hope this gift is at no detriment to yourself.”

Dario waved a hand and told him, “No, no detriment at all! Life has been quite prosperous since I came to Noalen. I’m a wealthy man with plenty to share, so why don’t I share it with you? I have more food back at my cabin, and a lovely fireplace where you may warm your hands. I’ll see that you’re all washed and fed tonight. Please, won’t you join us for dinner?”

“Thank you, sir. That is a generous offer,” replied the goblin, tucking the rice away in his rucksack. “It’s just…well, I mean no offense, but we do not know you. We have been betrayed on our journey before. You are probably a decent person, but we cannot be too careful.”

Dario maintained his calm smile, feigning indifference when he replied, “That’s perfectly understandable. Noalen is a bountiful land, but no one can deny its many dangers. I must keep a close eye on my lovely daughter when we’re out and about. This region in particular is crawling with degenerate pigs! But I am not one of them, my friends, you have my word on that. I’m just a simple family man with a bleeding heart.”

He gave Lilian’s shoulder a squeeze. She chimed in, “Won’t you please spend the night with us? It’s not safe out here in the dark! My father’s very kind and generous; he’ll make sure you have everything you need!”

In the shadow of the forest, Zeffer’s stomach was twisting into knots. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Fae could only speak what they knew to be true, so not only was Lilian completely divorced from reality, but Dario had somehow deluded himself into believing his own nonsense as well. He truly thought he was decent man, did he? Dario’s claims were so outrageous, Zeffer was starting to question his _own_ reality.

The goblins deliberated back and forth for a long moment. The older female tipped her head to Dario, sounding reluctant when she refused him, “Our apologies, but we will stay on our course. We cannot take chances with our children’s lives, you see.” She pointed her long nose towards the two children hiding behind their mother’s legs.

Dario’s smile faltered ever so slightly. “Hmm. It’s your decision. But like my daughter said, there are more dangerous things than I out here. I must be going now, so I will give you one last chance to reconsider. Will you warm yourselves by my fire?” He extended his gloved hand to them.

The goblins unanimously shook their heads, muttering apologies before they slipped away into the night. Dario curled his fist as he watched them go. Lilian cowered when he raised a hand to slap her, but it froze mid-air as Zeffer hissed, “Mr. Dusk! Group of three heading north!”

Dario jerked the horse’s reigns, forcing it to turn around. Then he saw them, a trio of satyresses walking together. One was older with gray streaks in her hair, the other two likely not far out of their adolescent years. They were all plump and healthy, and when they grew closer, Dario could see a baby in a sling hanging off one of the younger one’s shoulders.

He raised a palm, feigning concern when he asked, “My goodness, ladies! What are you doing out at this hour? This road is dangerous enough for men during the day!”

“I’m ain’t scared,” said the oldest satyr. “I been all over the place all my life, day or night. If any lowlife wanna fight me, they’ll crawl away bleedin’ from both ends!”

The trio shared a giggle. Dario chuckled softly, “Your confidence is admirable, miss. But I have lived here for a very long time, and I have seen things so terrible they would stop your heart. What about the little one, there?” he jutted his chin towards the sleeping baby. “He is just a helpless babe. You must consider his safety too.”

“She’s a girl,” said the baby’s mother, “and if anyone touches her, they’re losin’ their hand.”

“What a precious baby! She’s so beautiful, just like a doll,” cooed Lilian. Then she turned back to Dario and begged, “Please, Father, can these ladies stay with us for the night? If they stay out here, they might get chopped up by some maniac!”

Resting his hands on her shoulders, he told the satyresses, “My daughter is right. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t open my home to you? You and the child are more than welcome to stay in our cabin for the night. We have a warm fire and plenty of food to share. What do you say?”

The oldest satyress shook her head. “We don’t need no shelter, mister. I been sleepin’ under the starts my whole life. Keeps me tough.”

“Are you sure?” asked Dario, reaching into his saddle bag. He pulled out a bottle of liquor and waggled it in the air. “I’m a wealthy man. It’s really no burden to take you just for one night. Perhaps we can share drinks and you can tell us of your travels?”

“Drinks, huh?” The satyress’ eyes seemed to light up. “Now you’re talkin’! Come on, girls, we’re partyin’ with elves tonight!”

The others cheered, having clearly indulged in enough drinks already. Zeffer rolled his eyes. How typical of their kind, he thought. The alcohol was strong on their breath, so pungent in their sweat that he could smell it from the forest. Dario passed the bottle to the oldest of them and said, “Excellent! How refreshing to have such lively company. Come, our cabin is just a short journey away…”

*

Three satyresses lie strewn across the sitting room floor, silent and unmoving. Dario pried a bottle of poisoned wine from the mother’s hand and said, “They’re all out cold. Lilian, take this one to the dungeon. I want the others chopped and tossed.”

“Yes, Mr. Dusk.” The elfenne paid him a shallow bow before grabbing the satyr mother’s ankles. She grunted and strained as she dragged her plump body outside. Dario began binding the other satyresses’ wrists and ankles with iron chains, just in case they woke up before they met the axe. After gagging them with strips of cloth, he picked the swaddled newborn up off the floor and handed her to Zeffer.

“Here,” he said. “Give the pigs a little treat before dinner.”

Zeffer hesitated, eyes dancing between the baby and Dario. He took it into his reluctant hands with a single nod, then made a stiff exit out the front door. Zeffer didn’t know why he was so surprised. This kind of heinous depravity really wasn’t beyond the Dusks.

But it was far beyond Zeffer, who—in all his years dungeon-tending, betraying, and assassinating—had never once been ordered to murder a baby. He had watched his fellow vampires kill children, drain their blood, eat them alive and do other such unspeakable things, but he had always refused to take part in it himself. Now, he had little choice in the matter.

Or did he?

Zeffer stood on the platform overlooking the pig pen. The animals ran frantic circles inside, squealing and fighting when he dangled the baby above them. The satyr squirmed in his hands. She was a tiny little thing, so very warm as all living, mortal things were. Her eyes were bright and blue and full of life. She was babbling, laughing with glee at the funny pigs making funny sounds before her.

Zeffer’s hands quivered. His fingers twitched, then tightened around her. He hugged the baby against his chest and staggered away from the pen. Tears welled in his eyes as they flashed between true red and false hazel. He was so distraught, he was losing his grip on his guise.

No, he decided, Mr. Dusk would not have his way. Not with this, consequences be damned. He concealed the baby in his cloak and crept back to the cabin. He ducked behind a tree when he saw Lilian exit the cellar. As soon as she disappeared around the side of the cabin, he rushed to the hitching post and mounted the Dusks’ horse. He kicked his heels into the beast’s ribs, and off they bolted through the thicket and onto the main road.

With the baby clutched in his arm, he bolted north as fast as the horse would take him. He decided that the first mortal he saw was getting a new member of the family, because he knew whoever it happened to be, they would surely have stronger morals than Dario. A slim chance was better than none.

Zeffer saw a light in the distance. It was the gentle, orange glow of a campfire, flickering deep in the forest. He dismounted the horse and pushed through the thicket. Creeping forward, he peeked around a tree and saw some familiar faces. The family of goblin migrants had set up camp here, cooking a pot of rice over a fire.

Zeffer pulled his cloak forward, obscuring his face in shadow. Then, he darted through the camp as swiftly as a fox. The goblins jumped and shrieked with surprise, fearing they were under attack. But all they saw was a shadow pass through in a flash and vanish into the other side of the forest.

The goblins huddled together in a flurry of frantic mumblings. Slowly, cautiously, they approached the swaddled baby that had suddenly appeared in the grass.

*

Zeffer returned to the cabin, hitching the horse back to its post before approaching the front door. He heard muffled voices inside—Dario’s shouting and Lilian’s crying. All in all, his secret trip took no more than fifteen minutes. Perhaps they noticed he left without permission, and perhaps Dario would give him a thrashing when he walked inside.

Zeffer had no choice but to brace himself for whatever may come when he opened the door. He saw Lilian backed against the wall in tears. Dario stood over her, shouting and shaking his finger, already half-way through a tirade. “…and if you will not do these simplest of tasks properly, why should I waste my valuable time teaching you? My instruction is a _gift_ that I offer from the kindness of my heart! It is not a—”

He cut his rant short when he heard the front door click shut. Dario turned to Zeffer and announced, “There you are! Well, Mr. Vengelor, it seems we’ve lost another bloodbag to Lilian’s carelessness. I just saw them yesterday. I know damn well the sickest of them had another month in his veins, at least!”

Lilian cried out when he slapped her again, knocking her to the floor. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dusk, I’m sorry!” she sobbed.

“I will tell you this again, since you apparently didn’t listen the first time,” Dario began sharply. He made a slicing motion over his wrist as he explained, “When you make an incision, make it shallow and make it short! Stop at the very first gush, and if you find that the bleeding won’t stop, then you need to stitch them up! Don’t just let them bleed out like a stuck pig! Every drop on the floor is a drop off our tongues! Does that make sense to you, or must I repeat myself more slowly?”

Before Lilian could answer, Zeffer stepped forward and admitted, “Mr. Dusk, I…I was the last one to tend the dungeon. The mistake must have been mine, not hers.”

The clan master whipped his head towards him, eyes flashing red. They quickly faded back into the brown of his guise, Dario’s tone calming when he said, “Were you now?” He took a step towards Zeffer, and Zeffer instinctively took a step back. Three steps later, he was backed against the opposite wall. Dario loomed over him like a storm cloud, voice rumbling like thunder. “And were you paying attention when we so kindly demonstrated to you how to harvest blood properly? Evidently not, my dear boy, or you would not have made such a foolish mistake!”

Zeffer gnashed his teeth when Dario’s fingers closed around his throat. He grabbed the clan master’s wrist out of sheer instinct, then forced himself to let go, pressing his palms against the wall in submission. He did not need to breathe. But the pressure of Dario’s vampiric strength was painful, and being squeezed by the neck was distressing even to immortals.

Dario thumped Zeffer against the wall with one quick jerk. The back of Zeffer’s skull smacked loudly against the wood and he winced in pain, blinking the stars from his vision. “Do not waste my time,” warned Dario. “When I speak, you listen. When I instruct you, you pay close attention. And when I command, you obey, and you do it right.”

Zeffer nodded as much as he could in the clan master’s grip. “Understood,” he croaked.

Dario’s scowl curled into a smile. He released Zeffer’s throat and brushed his hands together as if he’d touched something dusty. “Good!” he said brightly, extending a hand to help Lilian off the floor. “Fortunately for us, tonight’s hunt was bountiful enough to replace what was lost, and the animals still got something out of it too. A hunt like this calls for a celebration! Lilian, be a dear and fetch the music box.”

Lilian gasped, “Ooh, music! Yay!” and her tears were instantly forgotten as she pranced to a cabinet on the other side of the room. She opened the doors and pulled out a boxy mechanical device, clearly Zareenite in origin. Eastern-style geometric patterns were painted on its wooden surface. It had a crank on one side, an open slot on the other, and a curved brass horn extending from the top like a flower.

She set the device on the kitchen table and clapped her hands with delight. Meanwhile, Dario took a stack of little square cases out of the bookshelf and set them beside the device. There were about a dozen cases, each one made of wood with a title branded into the surface. He caressed Lilian’s face and told her, “You may choose any song you like, my love.”

Lilian squealed with glee and began sorting through the cases. As she did, Dario asked Zeffer, “Have you ever worked a music box, my boy?”

“Uh, I’ve seen them. But I’ve never touched one,” admitted Zeffer.

Dario beckoned him over with a sweep of his hand. He gestured to various parts of the machine as he explained, “The cartridges go into the slot here, and then you must turn this handle to hear the melody. The faster you turn, the faster it plays. I want you to turn it at one revolution per second; no slower, no faster.”

“Got it,” said Zeffer, giving the crank a few experimental turns. Lilian made her choice and opened the wooden case, exposing a metal cartridge with the song title engraved on its bronze surface. She pushed the cartridge into the slot and twirled to the center of the room. Dario pushed the living chairs back a few paces before joining her.

“You may begin,” he told Zeffer. A soft piano melody filled the room as Zeffer turned the crank, carefully counting revolutions in his head. Dario wrapped an arm around Lilian’s waist and took one of her hands in his own. The two vampires began to dance, slowly and gracefully as if their humble cabin were a ballroom.

Zeffer hadn’t seen Lilian look this happy since he arrived. She couldn’t stop smiling if she tried, baring the pearly, fangless teeth of her guise. Dario offered a reserved smile back. “You’re so good to me, Mr. Dusk,” Lilian told him. “I’m the luckiest elfenne in the world!”

The melody briefly faltered as Zeffer recoiled. The girl was out of her mind!

Dario kissed her and chuckled, “Luck has nothing to do with it, my love. We have all this luxury only by the sweat of my brow. I do hope you appreciate all that I do for you.”

“Oh, I do! Very much! Thank you for everything, Mr. Dusk!”

Zeffer nearly retched. This cabin was a madhouse! The insanity must have distracted him, for Dario turned his way and snapped, “Is that contraption outsmarting you, Mr. Vengelor?”

Zeffer realized he was turning the crank too slowly. He got it back up to speed and replied, “No, sir. My apologies. I was just…distracted. You dance like royalty.”

The irritation on Dario’s face gave way to a smile. “As I should. I descend from Barhatian royalty, after all.”

“Really?”

Dario didn’t miss a beat as he continued dancing, twirling Lilian around as he replied, “Yes, the king of Barha was my eldest brother. He’s long dead now, of course. But if he had just accepted my dark gift, perhaps he wouldn’t be.”

Zeffer furrowed his brow. “He wasn’t a vampire?” he asked.

“Gaia, no,” explained Dario. “He thought our kind abhorrent—so abhorrent that he banished me from our kingdom. In the end, it was I who had the last laugh. I was building my own castle while maggots tunneled through his corpse. I was forming my own clan while his bones lie uselessly in a tomb. I live eternally like a _god_ , while he is but dust and a distant memory. I don’t even remember his name, nor does anyone else.”

He dipped Lilian low and kissed her. Then he said, “Death is a _choice_ , you see, so you should never pity the mortal swine. They chose to refuse our gift, and so they have chosen their fate. We are gods, they are peasants. They exist only to nourish us, and then they become dirt.”

“We’ll be young and beautiful forever. Won’t we, Mr. Dusk?” queried Lilian.

The clan master brought her hand to his lips, planting a kiss on her knuckles. “For all eternity, my love,” he told her. “We shall never know the pains of old age, the loss of our sight, our taste, or our dignity. We will never know a wretched thing like death, so long as you trust in me. The clan that shunned me in Barha and the clan that betrayed me in Taybiya, they all became dirt. That is why you—both of you—must always obey your clan master.”

The melody came to an end. Dario extended a hand towards Zeffer and queried, “Shall we dance, Mr. Vengelor?”

Zeffer hesitated, caught off-guard by the offer. “Uh, I don’t really know how to dance. Not like _that_ ,” he said.

Dario insisted, pulling him to the center of the room. “Then tonight, you will learn. Lilian, choose another song. Something orchestral. We will make a gentleman from this feral fledgling yet.”

Lilian skipped over to the music box and popped in another cartridge. She began turning the crank at an even tempo. Dario took one of Zeffer’s hands in his own and wrapped the other around his waist, leading him in a waltz. He taught Zeffer the importance of rhythm and timing, showed him the proper steps, and slapped him every time he stepped on his toes. The slaps were half-hearted, barely painful, just a jarring incentive for Zeffer to mind his every move.

The flesh of Dario’s hand appeared rich and warm to the touch, but that was never the case with vampires. His fingers were like ice, and when he pulled Zeffer close, there was no heartbeat in his chest. Zeffer knew better. There was a heart somewhere in there, just as there was a heart in Lilian and himself. It was black and cursed like everything else inside of them, but it was also the key to Zeffer’s mortality.

Zeffer always carried a knife in his pocket. He wondered if he could unsheathe it discreetly enough to stab Dario in the back right here, right now. Could he drive it straight through his black heart, and then catch Lilian before she fled? Could this be the night he escaped his curse?

No, he determined. He would just have to assimilate further into their wretched clan and wait.

*


	2. Sacrificial Heart

**[CHAPTER 2: SACRIFICIAL HEART]**

Just as the sun was coming up, Dario approached Zeffer with an order.

“There is a centauran trader who comes through each day, always around this time,” Dario explained, dropping a handful of silver coins in Zeffer’s hand. “Take the horse and wait on the main road for him. I want you to buy a newspaper, and make sure it’s a Folkvaran publication. The Evangelite papers are just worthless propaganda.”

So Zeffer set off down the trail and waited on the side of the road. The first rays of morning sun were harsh against his eyes. He pulled his hood forward and squinted at the horizon, and sure enough, he spotted a centaur approaching with an overstuffed cart of merchandise.

He bought a newspaper from the trader without incident and returned to the cabin. Dario and Lilian were both dressed down in their pajamas by the time he got back. Dario told him to leave the paper on the dining table, then he and Lilian bid him goodnight and disappeared into the bedroom.

Zeffer spent the daylight hours on the chaise once again. He endured the horrible sounds coming from the bedroom until he finally fell asleep with his eyes open. Before he knew it, the daylight was gone and he was waking up to the sound of a creaking door. The Dusks stepped out of their bedroom, still dressed down in their pajamas, and began their routine.

“Start warming us a bath, Lilian,” ordered Dario. “And Mr. Vengelor, you may tend the dungeon tonight. Be sure to do it _right_ this time.”

Zeffer tipped his head and set to work. He stepped into a pair of boots and threw a bloody apron on over his nightshirt. Two new faces occupied the dungeon, the mother satyress and her sister, both still plump and healthy. Zeffer knew that wouldn’t last long. They were so fresh, they still had some fight in them when he pulled down their gags to feed them.

The mother immediately spit in his eye and screeched, “What did you do with my daughter, you fuckin’ monster?”

Zeffer quickly stuffed the gag back in her mouth, staggering back as he wiped her saliva off his face. She was still thrashing in her binds and screaming muffled obscenities through her gag. “Ugh! Nasty bitch!” Zeffer barked, lip curled in disgust at the yellow streak left behind on his glove. “Fine! I guess you’re too busy spitting to eat!”

With that, he passed over her and offered the pork jerky to her sister. Before he removed her gag, he warned, “If you spit at me, I’ll smear honey on your face and let the pests do what they will. Understand?”

The satyress nodded, eyes wide and wet with tears. Her rectangular pupils were enlarged in the darkness. Cautiously, Zeffer removed her gag and she kept her word. She ate the offering between sobs, her words barely intelligible when she pleaded, “I know we’re done for, but just tell me…please tell me my baby niece is okay! Where is she…?”

Zeffer didn’t answer right away. It was bad practice to speak with captives. He made that mistake once before in another clan, when he confided in one he’d grown attached to. Word got back around to the clan, and Zeffer’s mission almost ended then and there. He narrowly managed to weasel himself out of that one.

He did not wish to be cruel, even to satyrs. He wanted nothing more than to release these people, or at the very least, just tell them he had spared their baby. But these satyresses were mouthy and unafraid, and there was a good chance they would repeat his confession to Lilian just to cause drama. Zeffer’s little betrayal would make its way back to Dario one way or another, and then he’d have to weasel his way out of another bad situation.

It wasn’t worth it.

“Shut up and eat,” he told her, and she sobbed her way through the rest of her ration.

Once the captives were tended, Zeffer brought their blood back to the cabin and the vampires drank it for breakfast. Dario sipped from his goblet as he scanned the Folkvaran newspaper. “Hm. Evangeline Kingdom is really struggling, by the sound of it,” he reported. “It says here there was another rebellion in Rivermere last week. ‘ _Sixteen gaian slaves broke free of their bonds, killing four Evangelites and injuring twelve before escaping to the north. Four were later apprehended and the rest are still on the loose’_.”

He lowered the paper and chuckled, “They’re probably half-way to Folkvar Capital by now. Ever since that whole Kelvingyard fiasco, the roads have been busy with fresh, easy blood. Half of our prey this last year comes pre-shackled!”

Zeffer cocked his head and queried, “Kelvingyard fiasco?”

“Yes, didn’t you hear? There was some kind of mass jailbreak at that big, nasty slave yard in the south. An earthquake or something, if I recall. It destroyed the walls and every last slave broke loose. Caused a lot of trouble for Evangeline’s economy, but their pain is always our gain.”

“Oh, yeah. I might have heard something about that in passing,” said Zeffer. “I don’t really pay attention to the news.”

Dario told him, “You shouldn’t need to. It is my responsibility as clan master to keep my finger on the pulse of this land. I will tell you whatever you need to know about the world outside our little sanctuary. Everything else is only a distraction.”

Tearing out a page from the paper, Dario passed it to Lilian and said, “Here you are, dear girl.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dusk!” The elfenne bowed her head as she took the page. It was filled with crosswords, mazes, and short stories.

“She loves her games. They keep her sharp,” Dario told Zeffer. He set his empty goblet aside and stood up. “You can fuss with that during leisure time. I believe our bath is ready. Come along, Zeffer.”

“Me?” Zeffer’s gaze shot up from his drink.

Dario turned to him and snapped, “Did I stutter? Yes, you! Lilian has far too much to do today, she does not have time to prepare a bath for each of us. Get in the washroom, now.”

Zeffer quickly sucked down the last of his breakfast and followed the other vampires into the washroom. The fire below the platform was crackling away, steam rising off the water in the tub. As he unbuttoned his black nightshirt, Dario mumbled, “Consider this a privilege, Mr. Vengelor. Few clan masters would be willing to share their bathwater with a fledgling. But we are a tightly-knit little family, aren’t we?”

Zeffer focused his eyes on his own buttons, fumbling with them longer than necessary. Behind him, Dario pulled off his nightshirt and handed it to Lilian, who carefully folded it as he stepped into the tub. Zeffer kept his eyes on his feet as he handed his own to her and climbed into the opposite side.

Now Dario was directly in front of him and averting his gaze was nearly impossible. He sensed a sinister energy about all this. Something perverse and unclean, despite Dario’s assurances. “There’s no need to feel awkward,” said Dario, resting his arms on the sides of the tub. Lilian kneeled beside him, dipped a cloth in the water and began to wash his shoulders.

He continued, “This is how things were done in Barha, where good water was scarce. They are prudish here in the north. Wasteful, inefficient. I suggest you take a good, long look at what lies before you and get comfortable with it, because intimacy is integral to our clan. What could be more intimate than exposing oneself, weak spots and all? It’s a matter of trust, Mr. Vengelor. I want you to trust in me.”

Zeffer didn’t trust this creep as far as he could throw him. Still, he nodded and played along, bracing himself for whatever trick Dario had up his sleeve. He slicked his hands with a bar of soap and began washing himself as Lilian dutifully scrubbed Dario.

As she washed his long hair, he said, “Tonight, we must begin gathering materials for the addition. We need quality lumber and as much stone as we can get our hands on. I’ve already sketched a few ideas. I think the room should extend from the east side, and we can move the horse’s shelter elsewhere. Of course, we will need a good amount of gold to make this happen. We will focus future hunts on working men, perhaps knock out a few small trade carts if we can…”

Zeffer periodically glanced at him, just to prove he was paying attention. He noticed Lilian reach deep into the water between the clan master’s legs, washing him there for far longer than necessary. Zeffer quickly realized what was happening, and had he real blood, his face would have flushed red. He tried to ignore it, focusing intently on himself as Dario leaned his head back and sighed, “Mmm, that’s lovely, dear girl…”

He pulled her into a passionate kiss, then she moved on to everything south of his thighs. Once Dario was clean, Zeffer jumped when she moved on to him. She washed his torso with practiced efficiency, as if she had made these same motions a thousand times before. Meanwhile, Dario blathered on, “…we cannot interfere with trade too much, or else they’ll send the Folkvar Guard. We must plan our attacks with care, and once we strike, we can leave no evidence behind…”

Zeffer’s attention was divided between his words and Lilian’s hands rubbing over his body. Then, it was divided no more. She earned his full attention when he felt her stray between his thighs. He jumped with surprise, gripped the sides of the tub and tried to quell his inner panic. What to do? Was this allowed?

Evidently not. Quick as a flash, Dario seized Lilian by the hair and dunked her head in the water. She thrashed and flailed as he bellowed, “Just _what_ do you think you’re doing, you whore?”

He threw her across the small room and she slammed into the counter, falling on her side. She sputtered and sobbed, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…!” as Dario jumped out of the tub and pulled on his robe. Zeffer pressed his teeth together, frozen in place while Lilian was dragged out of the washroom by her wrist.

He heard sounds of chaos in the sitting room, prompting him to scramble out of the tub and make sure Lilian wasn’t killed. If he lost her, his mission and his life would be over. He wrapped a towel around his waist and hurried out the door. He slipped on the stone tile and fell on his knee just as he crossed the threshold. The door flew open when he slammed against it, revealing two overturned chairs and an upended end table in the sitting room.

Lilian cowered on the floor in the middle of it all. She was all tears and desperate apologies as Dario grasped her hair with one hand, using the other to beat her with an iron stoker. Zeffer shot back to his feet and barked, “Hey! Mr. Dusk, please—”

“Shut up! You’ll be dealt with in a moment!” shouted Dario, pointing the stoker at him like a sword. Zeffer raised his palms and stepped back a couple paces. Dario quickly turned back to Lilian and continued to scold her, “You really have become brazen, haven’t you? You think just because I allowed you to fuck him once, you can do so whenever you please? Right in front of me, no less! That is not your decision to make, you filthy little bitch!”

She cried out under another strike of the stoker, smacking against her back. “I didn’t mean to, I promise!” she blubbered. “It was just a habit! I wasn’t thinking!”

“Obviously not!” the clan master barked. He pitched the stoker across the room, then roughly pulled her back to her feet only to shove her against an overturned chair. She tripped over it and toppled on her back with a thump.

Dario pointed at Zeffer, moving towards him like a storm cloud. “And you! How dare you allow this to happen! Did I not tell you that she’s a dumb child, and that you must be vigilant? She can hardly be blamed, but I expect a lot more from you!” Zeffer saw Dario’s hand reaching for his neck and acted out of instinct, raising his forearm to block it. Dario paused, taken by surprise, as if resistance was some foreign concept.

The bewilderment only lasted a second before Dario slapped his arm down and grabbed him anyway, throwing him to the floor. Under normal circumstances, Zeffer would have twisted around before he ever hit the floorboards, grabbed Dario’s arm and flipped him on his head. But with his mission in mind, he forced his muscles to fall limp, allowing himself to be tossed like a ragdoll. Dario grabbed his wrist to pull him up and throw him again, this time slamming him into the wall. Zeffer’s towel came loose and pooled at his feet, leaving him vulnerable and humiliated all at once.

Zeffer shielded his face and hissed an apology through his fangs. He had completely lost his guise through his panic. Even Dario’s had faded slightly, eyes glowing bright red in the darkness. The display of fear seemed to please Dario, or at the very least cool his rage. He stopped his beating long enough for Zeffer to explain, “I was caught by surprise! I didn’t know what to do. I apologize. Please don’t be angry with her, it was my mistake. I will not let it happen again.”

Dario curled his fists at his sides, looking him up and down for a long moment. Just behind him, Lilian was sniffling as she picked herself up off the floor. Zeffer focused on her, trying to will his thoughts into her mind. If only she would pick up that iron stoker and ram it through Dario’s throat, he’d never know what hit him. Instead, she began setting the furniture right and cleaning up his mess.

Dario swiped the towel off the floor, shoved it against Zeffer’s belly and said, “You’re on thin ice. Do not disappoint me again. Now get dressed, we have much to do.”

Zeffer tipped his head and obeyed, rushing back into the washroom. He left the door ajar as he changed, listening to Lilian’s mousy sniveling. “I shouldn’t have done that, Mr. Dusk. I’m so stupid! I love you very much! I didn’t mean it…”

“I know, dear girl,” Dario cooed back with sudden tenderness. “Mistakes do happen sometimes. It’s a shame you’re so forgetful, but how lucky you are to have me around, hm? I will always set your wrongs right, and I will always protect you. You are a precious thing to me.”

His words made Zeffer gag. “ _You’re so full of shit, it’s spilling out your mouth_ …” he muttered under his breath as he buttoned his pants. He exited the washroom fully dressed. He saw Dario and Lilian embracing eachother before him.

Dario stroked Lilian’s head as if she were an animal. She whimpered against his robe, “Please don’t be mad at me anymore! I want to make you happy, always!”

“You _do_ make me happy, my love,” he assured her, planting a kiss on top of her head. “You know I don’t thrash you out of anger, don’t you? I’ve told you time and time again…”

“You do it because you love me,” she finished with a sniffle.

“That’s right,” he said gently. He flashed an odd glare at Zeffer as he continued, “Pain may forget us, but we do not forget pain. Our bruises persist as reminders of what we’ve done wrong. They are valuable tools for learning, so do not cry, my dear! You may revel in the pain, knowing how much you are cared for. Do you really think I would go through all this trouble for you if I did not love you?”

Lilian shook her head and told him, “You’re so clever, Mr. Dusk. You always know what’s right.”

“That I do, love.” He kissed her one last time before guiding her towards the front door. “Now make haste with your bath, we’re already far behind schedule. Mr. Vengelor, meet us outside once you’re done with this mess. I want you fully armed. We’ll be hunting for gold tonight.”

*

A week passed by, but it may as well have been a year. Every little moment in the Dusk clan kept Zeffer on high alert. He knew Dario was a monster when they met, but it seemed two and a half decades of isolation, with no clanmates to keep him in check, had driven him over the edge of madness.

Zeffer was convinced the strange bath incident had been some kind of setup—just an excuse for Dario to indulge his violent desires. He thought so because the longer he spent in Dario’s presence, the higher he stood on his toes, just waiting for something to set him off. Zeffer remembered the clan master’s calm, reserved temperament back in Taybiya, even when things grew dire. Now he was downright volatile, like a chemical concoction ready to bubble over at the slightest tremor.

Tonight, Dario presented him with a new task. “Zeffer,” he said, “Lilian tells me we’re low on dungeon-fodder. She’s already hitched a pig near the butchering shed. I want you to slaughter it and hang the meat up to smoke. Be sure to clean up the mess when you’re through, and then report back to me.”

Zeffer did as he was told. There were all kinds of butchering tools at his disposal in the shed near the pigpen, and he used them to make quick work of the animal. He let no part go to waste, laying the bones out to dry along with the leathery skin. The amount of meat he harvested weighed more than he did, and he spent the entire night cutting it into strips, salting it, and smoking it.

He hung the strips over a large, intricate drying rack over the fire. It glowed brightly in the darkness of night, too bright for his vampire eyes to look at directly. He was loading more logs onto the fire, still waiting for the meat to dry when Dario approached him. Lilian followed closely in tow.

“Mr. Vengelor!” he snapped. “Are you _still_ not finished? What on Gaia is taking so long?”

Zeffer tipped his head and replied, “My apologies. About two more hours should do it. Come with me, I’ll show you what I accomplished so far.”

Curious, Dario and Lilian followed him to the rickety wooden shed. Lilian waved and blew a kiss to the pigs when they passed the pen. Zeffer showed them the pigskin, stretched out on a makeshift rack behind the shed to cure. They saw all the bones organized by size, washed in the creek and laid out in the grass to dry.

“You saved the skin and bones?” queried Dario, looking on in disbelief. Zeffer couldn’t tell if he was happy or angry about it.

“Yes,” said Zeffer. “I apprenticed at a butchery when I was a kid, then eventually got into tanning. I thought we could sell the byproducts the next time we go into town. I also saved the fat, it’s in those buckets in the shed.” He paused, waiting for Dario to respond. The clan master was pacing around, examining his work, and he still couldn’t tell if he was angry or not. So he added, “I also know how to make kibble. Pemmican too. If you give me something with fur, I can skin it clean without a single tear. A few decent pelts might buy us a load of stone for the addition…”

Finally, Dario turned to him with a toothy smile and praised, “Well, well! I’m quite impressed! I never expected such fine work from the likes of you, but I suppose life is full of surprises.” He turned to Lilian and told her, “Are you paying attention, Lilian? You could learn a thing or two about work ethic from this. In fact, I don’t want you anywhere near the butcher’s block anymore. From now on, Mr. Vengelor, you shall be solely responsible for all butchering duties in this clan. Your results simply cannot be matched.”

He clapped Zeffer on the shoulder. “Well done, my dear boy. I was starting to have my doubts, but you’re proving yourself a worthwhile member of this clan.”

*

_SUMMER, 6008_

Another night, another hunt. One of the sicklier captives dropped dead to no one’s surprise, so Dario led his clan back out to the main road in search of a replacement. Dario and Lilian dismounted their horse and waited for someone to pass by. Zeffer waited in the shadows as usual, fighting his urge to pick off Dario all the while.

He might miss, he reminded himself. Or worse yet, he’d miss Dario and hit Lilian. It wasn’t time. He had to keep being patient. Ever since Zeffer joined the clan, Dario did not allow him a second alone with Lilian. He kept his eyes on at least one of them at all times.

Dario was hardly the genius he thought he was, but he was no fool either. Even if he did not suspect Zeffer’s ulterior motive, he knew better than to leave him alone with the key to his mortality. The best he offered was the key to the dungeon, and even then, Zeffer had to ask permission for it each time.

They heard heavy hoofsteps in the distance. Zeffer loaded a bolt in his crossbow and waited, ready to fire the moment things turned sour. No such thing had happened yet, but Dario warned him of sour encounters he had in the past. Bandits occasionally tried to rob them, he said, and if these lowlifes were lucky, the vampires would simply flee without dragging them off to their dungeon. They had to be ready for anything.

The horse plodded closer. It was mounted by a hulking satyr, lighting the way with a lantern dangling off his saddle. He was a grizzled creature with a robust, red beard and his long hair tied in braids, typical of most Folkvarans. But atypical of most satyrs, he was wearing clothes. He had the worn tunic, dirty pants, and leather gloves of a blue collar worker, and that meant he probably had some gold in his pockets.

Dario flagged him down as he approached. “Excuse me, sir!” he called, respectfully removing his hat. “You look like a hard-working man. How would you like to wind down with some drinks and a beautiful elfenne tonight?”

He placed his hands on Lilian’s shoulders, who batted her lashes with an enchanting smile. The satyr slowed his horse to a stop. Scratching at his beard, he looked this way and that before he asked, “What are you sellin’, mister?”

“Oh, nothing at all,” Dario told him, raising his gloved palms. He put his hat back on, and with a wink, he said, “The first time’s always free. One night with this charming creature, and I guarantee she’ll rule your heart for the rest of your days.”

“Hm. Let’s have a look at you, girlie,” the satyr grunted, then dismounted his horse to pace circles around Lilian. She flashed her brightest smiles and struck seductive poses to entice him.

Zeffer watched from the trees, fingers hovering over the trigger of his crossbow. He felt like something wasn’t quite right, but he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was just his prejudice against satyrs tugging at him. Evan was always trying to break him of such feelings, and though Zeffer gave an honest effort, he never felt at ease around Gaia’s goat-folk. This one in particular, he didn’t trust one bit. Something about the gait of his step, the shift of his eyes, the way he carried himself…

“Very nice! She’s a beauty alright,” the satyr told Dario. Then he turned back to Lilian and asked, “Let’s say you ‘n me did spend the night together. What kind of things would we get up to?”

“I’m your doll, handsome,” cooed Lilian. “You can play with me however you want.”

The satyr nodded. “I see. Let’s say I wanted to play a game with you that was, uh… _sexual_ in nature. Would you do that?”

“I can do it all.” Lilian ran her hands down her body, pulling the neckline of her dress down as they passed. She exposed her breasts to him as she stepped closer, pressing herself against his broad chest. “You can take me in any position you like, for as long as you like, and I promise I won’t cry about it…unless you want me to.” She winked, embracing one of his arms.

“Oh, really now?” The satyr chuckled, reaching for something in his saddlebags. He pulled out a pair of iron cuffs, presenting them to her when he asked, “Then how about you slip on this little number and I’ll _take_ you to Sodergen jail? You two are under arrest for soliciting sex in Folkvaran territory. Turn around and put your hands behind your back!”

Lilian shrieked when he seized her by the wrist. But before he could clamp the cuff around it, she disappeared into thin air and her clothes dropped to the ground. The satyr jumped back in surprise. He jumped again when a bat shot out from the pile of clothes, flapping and squeaking into the forest. He saw Dario sprinting away in the other direction and shouted, “What the--? Hey! Stop right there! You wanna catch more charges?”

The satyr was sure he caught him when Dario stopped at the edge of the thicket, for the brush was too thick to run any further. But just as he reached out to grab him, the vampire disappeared into a burst of black mist and dissipated through the forest.

An instant later, a bolt pierced through the officer’s belly. “Ah! Shit!” he snarled, making an attempt to stagger back to his horse for cover. He didn’t make it far before he was shot in the back of the knee, crumpling him. The black mist returned like a swarm of tiny insects. The satyr never noticed it creeping up behind him. He was dragging himself back to his horse, but he never made it. The mist rapidly materialized back into Dario, who pulled a hidden sword out of his cane and slashed through his throat.

The horses brayed and reared up with fright. The satyr’s horse was already taking off down the road. “Boy, go get that animal!” shouted Dario, struggling to drag the heavy corpse away. Zeffer exploded out of the brush and sprinted after the horse. Meanwhile, Lilian ran out of the forest completely naked, snatching her clothes off the ground with haste.

Dario turned to her and hissed, “Toss those and help me, you little fool!”

Lilian obeyed, throwing her clothes into the forest, then she and Dario dragged the corpse in the same direction. Once it was deep enough in the thicket, she began getting dressed as Dario crept back out to the road, checking for witnesses before casually sweeping dirt over the blood trail with a branch. The horse returned with Zeffer on its back.

“Damn it! Those red bastards are getting wise to us,” panted Dario, tossing the branch aside. “Did you see any witnesses?”

Zeffer replied, “No. Not a soul in that direction, as far as I could see.”

“Good. Help me load up the body. We must leave, _now_.”

The vampires wrapped the satyr’s body in a dark sheet before loading him onto the back of his horse. The corpse looked far less suspicious that way, especially under the cover of night as they traveled back to their cabin. There they bottled whatever blood he had left and fed his remains to the pigs. His bloodstained clothes were burned in the fireplace, the goods in his saddlebags were stored away, and his horse, too, was swiftly butchered and thrown into the pigpen.

Anything that could be traced back to the dead officer had to be disposed of, according to Dario, including a silver ring that was surely worth a good chunk of money. Zeffer was told to throw the ring in the cesspit, a horrid underground cave where all the cabin’s sewage drained. Not even a troll would go poking around such a disgusting, cramped, miserable place. The stench of it alone drove animals away.

Zeffer nearly obeyed him, then thought better of it and sneaked deeper into the forest. He looked around for spying eyes, then dug a hole at the base of an ancient, gnarled stump and buried the ring there. Perhaps it wasn’t the most secure place—enough rainwater may unearth it someday, or an animal may dig it up. But Zeffer didn’t intend to stick around here long enough for that to matter.

As Dario’s trust in him grew, the end of this wretched clan drew nearer. Once he conquered this place, Zeffer planned to reap all its spoils before burning it to the ground. No priest on Gaia could dispel the cursed energy that haunted this cabin, not after all the horrors that transpired inside and out. The misery permeated its old walls like smoke. Zeffer felt it the moment he stepped through the door, and the sickening feeling hadn’t left him since he arrived.

After burying the ring, he rushed back to the cabin. The sun would rise soon. “The Folkvar Guard will come looking for him,” said Dario, pacing anxiously around the sitting room. Zeffer and Lilian sat silently before him as he raged on, “This road will be crawling with red soldiers for weeks! Since when do those fools give a damn about prostitution? Especially in a far-flung place like this! They must be getting wise to us! Too many travelers are ratting us out!”

He kicked over an end table. Zeffer winced when the lamp shattered, spilling oil across the floor. He had half a mind to drop a match on it and light this place up. Instead, he asked, “What will we do, clan master?”

“What will we do?” Dario repeated. He paused briefly, then decided, “We will lay low, at least until this case runs cold. And it shall eventually, I promise you that! The red military has better things to do than waste time searching for a pawn. A wild beast could have dragged him off, for all they know.” He paused again, scratching at his smooth chin. “Give it two weeks,” he added. “We’ll stay at the cabin for fourteen days, then we shall scout the road and see if things have settled. We are still short one bloodbag, but we can get by if we’re conservative.”

He approached his clanmates, resting his cold palms on their heads as he assured them, “Do not fret, my little family. Simply trust in your clan master and you will be taken care of.”

*

Four days passed by, each one less eventful than the last. The Dusks stayed indoors as much as possible and never once set foot outside their little plot of land. They tended the vegetable garden, fed the pigs what little scraps they could forage, and caught up on domestic chores that, for fleeting moments, would fool Zeffer into believing they lived a normal, mortal life.

Still, Dario was no less of a tyrant. He still thrashed Lilian for minor infractions, still set his clanmates up to fail just for an excuse to abuse them. He called Zeffer into the bath again, even though there was no reason for it. They couldn’t be short on time, since they had nowhere to be. Zeffer didn’t question it. He wasn’t allowed to anyway. Nor was he allowed to refuse, so he climbed into the tub with Dario and endured his increasingly inappropriate advances.

Dario insisted on touching his hair. “Lilian’s was once white, just like yours,” he said. “My dear ex-wife, Ivy—gods rest her soul—was a master illusionist. She made Lilian’s hair match mine just to spite me, and I have yet to figure out how to break her spell. That _witch_.” He scowled, shaking his head.

Sliding his cold palm down Zeffer’s face, he added, “And despite what she may have told you, she was not a natural blonde. No fae can lie, but she could twist words into knots and fool even the cleverest of men. She was a traitor, through and through. She was always opposing me, even in small, inconsequential matters. It was _she_ who fractured our old clan. _She_ turned them all against me with her twisted words and illusions!”

Zeffer sat rigid and unblinking until Dario pulled his hand off his neck. The clan master reclined back as Lilian washed his chest. “She survived that terrible wolf-beast,” he went on. “But she did not survive me. I did what I had to do, and I will not hesitate to do the same to you if it comes down to it, Mr. Vengelor.”

Zeffer dared to glance at him. Dario was glaring back with glowing intensity. Did he know about Zeffer’s plan? How could he, unless he’d been poking around his thoughts? He was not a telepath like the Dreamcallers, as far as Zeffer knew. He may have violated Zeffer’s space, his body, and his dignity, but he would never let Dario violate his mind like he’d done to Lilian.

Perhaps he was just being paranoid. Zeffer kept his responses as vague and open-ended as possible. “I understand,” he said quietly. He kept his head down in the clan master’s presence. He imitated Lilian’s meek body language, trying to appear more broken and fearful than he was. If Ivy could fool Dario with illusions, then so could he.

He flinched when he felt something slide over his knee. He glanced down at the water, and through the nearly opaque film of soap, he could just barely see Dario’s hand straying up his leg. He gave Zeffer’s thigh a squeeze before pulling away, and then he casually stood up so Lilian could pour a bucket of water over him, rinsing the soap off his body.

This was escalating too fast. Zeffer could pretend to be Dario’s slave all he wanted, but if he let this go on, he knew it wouldn’t be long before he wasn’t pretending anymore. The deeper he was sucked into Dario’s miserable little world, the harder it would be to escape. Whatever he intended to do here, Zeffer realized he had to do it soon, lest he end up in the same position as Lilian. She hadn’t been quite so meek and subservient when he met her a quarter-century ago. Dario had _done_ something to her in that time—something dramatic and terrible—to make her this way.

Somehow he had gotten into her head, so what was stopping him from getting into Zeffer’s?

The sun was rising. The vampires changed into their pajamas and exited the washroom. Just as they were bidding eachother good day, there was a loud knock on the door. Each of them froze, exchanging looks of confusion and fear. Dario crept towards the window, peeling the heavy curtains back just enough to see two hulking Folkvaran soldiers standing on their doorstep. He cursed under his breath.

Dario then turned to Lilian and pointed to the bedroom, silently urging her to hide. She disappeared through the door as he pointed Zeffer back to the washroom. Zeffer left the door open just a crack and watched through it. Dario lit a candle, as if the cabin were populated by normal, mortal elves who couldn’t see in the dark, and then he opened the door.

Standing before him was a mighty bearded centaur and an even mightier ogre, both armored in steel plates and red cloaks. The centaur greeted, “Good morning, sir. I am Officer Brygian, and this is Officer Dogrut. Sorry to disturb you at this hour, but we’re investigating a missing persons case. A Folkvar soldier went missing along this road earlier in the week. May we have a look around?”

Had Zeffer a normal heart, it would be racing out of his chest. His eyes flicked to the bedroom door. He couldn’t care less about Dario’s fate, but whatever happened here, he had to make sure Lilian survived it.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Dario pushed the door wide open and welcomed them inside. “Of course, of course! Come right in!” he said. “I’ve lived here for decades, and I’ve seen many strange and terrible things happen on this road. A missing soldier does not surprise me at all! Why, I’ve been attacked by lowlifes quite a number of times myself!”

The soldiers ducked through the doorway as they stepped inside. “Sorry to hear that, sir,” rumbled the ogre. “We’re hoping to put some of these lowlifes behind bars today. Have you noticed any unusual activity recently? Any suspicious behavior or unfamiliar faces?”

Dario fetched large goblets from the kitchen nook and placed them on the dining table. As he filled them with wine, he replied, “Ah, yes, I have. I noticed a rough-looking elven fellow skulking around as of late. He creeps through the woods at odd hours, peering out at the road. I saw him attack a man and rob him once, and I fear it’s only a matter of time before I’m next.”

Zeffer narrowed his eyes. Just what was Dario’s plan here?

The clan master handed the two goblets to the officers. They accepted his hospitality and sipped from them while they wandered through the sitting room, poking through drawers and peering behind furniture. “Interesting. Can you describe what he looked like?” asked the centaur.

“Yes,” said Dario. “He had a bronze complexion and long hair quite like myself, but his hair was as white as bone…”

Zeffer’s nails dug into the wooden door. Was he really trying to sacrifice Zeffer to throw them off his trail?

Dario continued, “He was wearing dark clothing. Leather armor, like some kind of mercenary or assassin…”

The ogrish officer knocked back the entire goblet of wine, then opened a cabinet. He found only the music box and some books. Just as he closed it, he swayed to the side and nearly fell over. He caught himself on the back of Dario’s favorite chair and shook his head, as if to shake off a dizzy spell. Officer Brygian queried, “Did you trip?”

“No,” the ogre grumbled, setting his goblet aside before he dropped it. He rubbed his head and continued, “Just got dizzy for a…uh…is this fairy-wine, by chance?” he asked Dario.

The clan master shrugged. “It’s my family’s special recipe. I’m told it’s a bit strong for commoners. Perhaps you should sit down.” He offered his chair, but the ogre refused and sat on the chaise instead.

“I don’t want to break your nice furniture, sir,” the ogre told him, words already slurring together. The centaur quirked his brow at his own goblet. It was nearly empty. He was reluctant to finish the rest, so he set it aside.

Dario watched the centaur closely. He knew the ogre was already done for, but he needed to make sure neither of them left alive. Officer Brygian said to Dario, “Tell me more about this elf. Where did you last see him?”

Dario hesitated. Bound by honesty, he wasn’t about to say ‘I last saw him in my bathroom’. He had to be tricky with his words like Ivy was. “I saw him attack that fellow maybe three or four nights ago,” he decided. “I fled when it happened, but I witnessed him dragging the man into the forest before I left. This was about twenty minutes to the north by horse.”

“I see,” slurred the centaur. He opened his mouth to say more, then his front leg wobbled and he dropped to his knees. Quickly righting himself, he apologized, “Oh! Sorry about that. That _is_ strong wine, sir…I’m, uh…”

Dario grinned. “Feeling tipsy, officer?”

The centaur planted a hand against the wall to steady himself. Suddenly he heard a loud thump, and saw that his partner had fallen unconscious on the floor. His eyes flicked back to Dario and rounded. He reached for his axe and bellowed, “What is this? Y-you’re under arrest! Turn around and—”

Dario disappeared in an explosion of black smoke. The officer turned all around, but quickly lost his footing and fell on his side. His great equine body crashed onto the table in front of the chairs, breaking it into pieces.

“Where are you?” he cried. He tried to scramble to his hooves, but another wave of dizziness sent him tumbling back down. Dario reappeared above him with a sword. The blade sliced through the centaur’s neck before he even knew what hit him. The officer flailed and stumbled about, clutching his neck, but it was too late. He crashed into the wall and fell to the floor, and he did not get up again.

“Lilian! Zeffer! Come here!” called Dario. His two clanmates crept out from their hiding places while Officer Brygian lie in front of the door, still twitching and convulsing. Blood was gushing from his throat. Dario kicked the axe out of his hand and said, “We must do away with that ogre, quickly. As for him…” He nodded towards the centaur. “Let’s collect all the blood we can. The pigs will have a feast.”

The trio donned their cloaks and set to work. Lilian collected the centaur’s blood in a large tub while Zeffer and Dario dragged the ogre out to the shed. Zeffer stripped his armor and sliced his soft belly open from groin to chest before tossing him to the pigs. He only did so because Dario told him the pigs couldn’t chew through ogre hide. Once the beasts finished hollowing out the corpse, Zeffer was to return and burn the hide.

The centaur weighed over a ton. Moving him out of the cabin proved problematic, even between three vampires. “This is precisely why we don’t deal with heavyweights!” growled Dario, giving the corpse a kick. “We’ll have to dismember it and drag it out in pieces. Ugh, what a mess this is going to be…Lilian, go fetch a sheet. One of the old ones.”

“Wait. I have an idea,” said Zeffer, then he made a swift exit out the front door. Dario and Lilian waited for several minutes. Glancing at the clock on the mantle, Dario grew impatient and stormed out after him.

“Mr. Vengelor, we are wasting precious time!” he growled, looking around for his clanmate. Zeffer appeared just then, leading the horse around the side of the cabin. It was wearing a makeshift harness Zeffer fashioned out of rope. Zeffer led the horse up to the open doorway and tied the end of the rope around the centaur’s hind legs.

Then, jumping in the saddle, he guided the horse down the path towards the pig pen. Dario and Lilian followed, keeping a keen eye out for witnesses as the centaur was dragged off. Per Dario’s instruction, Lilian picked up a branch and swept dirt over the trail of blood the corpse left in its wake.

They arrived at the shed. Quickly Zeffer cut the rope and began butchering the corpse. “That could have gone worse,” admitted Dario. “Though this hardly solves our problem, does it? Now the Guard is going to send even more soldiers to investigate! We have to get those bastards off our trail…”

“Don’t worry,” said Zeffer, pulling a cleaver out of the shed. “I can make this look like an accident.”

*

Zeffer spent all day dismembering the centauran officer. Then, around midnight, he shoved the officer’s humanoid torso in a sack and attached it to the back of the Dusks’ horse. He rode far away from the cabin under the shroud of night, and once he was clear of all witnesses, he dumped the torso on the side of the road. He had marred it with long scratches beforehand and punctured it over and over with dragon’s teeth.

He scattered a few dragon’s teeth and scales around the site before bolting off back to the cabin. This wasn’t his first time pulling a stunt like this. It was an old technique taught to him by one of the clans he betrayed. If it was good enough to fool the Evangeline Guard, it was surely good enough for the Folkvar Guard.

Dario kept a close eye on the newspaper each day. Three days after the incident, he found just the article he was looking for.

“Right here! It says, ‘ _Missing Soldiers Linked With Dragon_ Attack’!” Dario read aloud. He slammed the paper down on the table and let out a victorious laugh. Zeffer and Lilian were seated around him with blood-goblets in their hands. Zeffer nearly spilled his when Dario suddenly embraced him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“You clever boy! You truly are as precious as a gem!” Dario praised. Zeffer forced an awkward smile and said nothing. Perhaps it was only psychological, but his cheek burned where the clan master kissed him. Everywhere Dario touched him somehow felt slimy, painful, or filthy.

Lilian clapped her hands and rejoiced, “Yaaay! Does this mean we’re safe now?”

“For now, yes,” Dario told her. “Those fools are so caught up in the war with Evangeline, I doubt they’ll pursue this further. They may send mercenaries to patrol for wild dragons, at worst. But I don’t anticipate more undercover officers any time soon. They can’t afford to lose any more soldiers to this backwater stretch of road.”

Zeffer flinched when Dario reached for him again, caressing the side of his face. “You just keep pleasing me, dear boy. I think it’s high time you reaped your special reward.”

Zeffer vaguely recalled Dario mentioning a reward at some point, but he’d brushed it off as some empty incentive to behave. He wondered if he would get new clothes, larger rations at dinner, or an extra hour of leisure time. He’d seen Dario reward Lilian with such things in the past.

Dario took Lilian by the hand and led her towards the bedroom. “I need just a few minutes to prepare,” he said. “Let yourself in once you’ve finished your meal. Your reward will be waiting for you.”

With that, he and Lilian stepped through the door, leaving it slightly ajar behind them. Zeffer’s stomach filled with dread, and suddenly there was no more room for blood. He pushed his half-empty goblet aside. He already didn’t like this. He entertained several plans of attack while he stalled. Could he burst through the door, bolts firing? Could he fashion an explosive from a bottle and an oily rag, toss it in the bedroom and run?

No, he decided. There was no way to pull any of that off without taking out Lilian too. He had no choice but to play along with whatever diabolical setup Dario had waiting for him, so after a few minutes, he forced down the last of the blood in his goblet and approached the bedroom door.

Zeffer leaned his ear against the open crack. It was silent inside. Cautiously, he pushed the door open with a long, ominous creak. He had never seen the bedroom before, for the door opened directly in front of a wall. But when he took a step inside and turned to the right, he witnessed the true interior, and it froze him in place.

It was not what he expected. Yet once he saw it, he couldn’t imagine anything different lying beyond this door. There was probably a window at the back of the room, but it was covered behind layers and layers of curtains. Below that was a rustic double-bed with a solid oak frame. The frame had been retrofitted with iron shackles chained to all four posts.

Dario had shackled Lilian to the bed, it seemed, for she was dressed in a sheer lingerie gown with her limbs stretched out like an X. She did not look comfortable, nor did Zeffer, standing rigid by the open door. Dario was sitting in a chair near the bed, one leg crossed casually over the other. He’d changed out of his nightshirt and into one of his usual suits for the occasion.

“Come in, Mr. Vengelor. You have my permission this time,” Dario beckoned him with a sweep of his hand. Zeffer reluctantly obeyed, pulling the door shut before stepped closer. Only then did he notice the chest of drawers across from the bed. Each drawer was pulled open like a set of stairs, containing all manner of obscene things. In the topmost drawer he saw phalluses carved from bone in various sizes. In the drawer below were riding crops, belts, blades, and other weapons Zeffer did not even understand. Nor did he understand the complex devices lying in the bottom drawer, sinister things made of chains, straps, and spikes.

Zeffer’s eyes flicked back to Dario, glowing bright red. He’d lost hold of his guise and didn’t even notice. Why was he so surprised by this? He’d be more surprised if Dario’s bedroom _wasn’t_ a horrible rape-dungeon, he thought, and that realization alone sent a shiver down his spine. There was no getting out of this unscathed. The Dusks would have their way with him, one way or another.

“Just this once, under my supervision, I will allow you to bed my beloved Lilian,” began Dario. He gestured to the chest of drawers. “I have all manner of playthings here. Use any of them as you wish. You have certainly earned it.”

Zeffer looked between the clan master and his pitiful slave. Lilian’s false, violet eyes were staring blankly off into oblivion, as if the soul had fallen right out of her.

“M-Mr. Dusk,” stammered Zeffer, damning the crack in his voice, “this isn’t necessary. Like I said before, I-I have no desire for her. I’m just here for blood.”

Cocking his head, Dario replied, “Dear boy, I don’t think you understand the gravity of what I offer. This is the highest honor one can hope to achieve in this clan! Would you really refuse such a generous gift?” He stood up and approached Zeffer, backing him against the wall. “Would you really disrespect me so? To take this lovely gift and dash it before me?”

He seized Zeffer’s chin and leaned in close, nearly nose-to-nose. For a brief second, Zeffer feared he may kiss him. Instead, Dario hissed, “Would you really spit in the face of your clan master, Mr. Vengelor?”

_If only_ , Zeffer thought miserably. The urge to spit right in his eye was strong, but his will to live was stronger. Zeffer tipped his gaze down and told him, “I…I accept your gift. Thank you, clan master.”

Dario’s scowl spread into a sinister grin. “The pleasure is mine,” he said. He shoved Zeffer towards the bed and then returned to his chair. “Do take care not to leave any permanent marks,” he added. “At the end of the night, she is still my property.”

Zeffer looked all around the room, then back at Lilian. He didn’t even know how or where to begin. Dario prompted him by pointing to the desk on the other side of the room. “You may leave your clothes on the desk,” he said, so Zeffer began by stripping down.

This was no honor, and it certainly was no reward. Zeffer knew this was just another one of Dario’s setups. An elaborate excuse to humiliate and torment his so-called “subordinates”, to get inside their heads, to break them down into soulless husks. Zeffer would go through the motions, but he refused to succumb to Dario’s evil tactics. He crawled over top of the bound elfenne, and between loathsome kisses he whispered a discreet apology.

“I’m so sorry…”

*

The Dusk clan returned home after another successful hunt. They lured their drunken, human victim in with promises of sex and alcohol, only to poison him, strip him of his belongings, and trap him in the dungeon. He was in for a rude awakening whenever he woke up from his poison-induced sleep, chained to the trough with all the others.

In the meantime, the vampires threw his clothes in the fireplace and rummaged through his rucksack for anything of value. “Ooh, how pretty!” gasped Lilian, pulling out a gold bracelet. “Can I keep it, Mr. Dusk?”

The clan master snatched it from her and carefully inspected it. Shaking his head, he replied, “No, dear girl. This piece is custom, much too distinct.” With that, he tossed it in a pile along with a personalized hunting knife and a locket with a woman’s picture in it.

Aside from some money and a few dry food products, the man had nothing of interest. Zeffer hoped Dario would send him to dispose of the jewelry. He suspected the clan master was getting wise to him, because he never left him alone with valuables anymore. Instead, Dario stood up and carried the pieces to the cesspit himself, beckoning his clan to follow.

Zeffer’s heart sank with grief as he watched the bracelet, the knife, and the locket tumble down into the cave. He felt his sanity beginning to slip. Once in a great while, he found himself earnestly cowing to Dario’s will—not out of determination to see his mission through, but out of a genuine desire to please him. Whatever was happening to his psyche frightened him more than death.

The vampire hunter had been conjuring up a plan for some time now. But he needed gold to make it happen, and at this rate, he’d be stuck here for years. He didn’t have that kind of time anymore, not as his own will crumbled before his eyes. Not as his thoughts twisted and his soul burned.

That morning, long after the sounds of agony from the bedroom went quiet, Zeffer put on his cloak and crept out of the cabin. He approached the cesspit, kneeling in front of the little cave. He had to remind himself not to breathe, for even a single breath would surely make him retch. The entrance was wider than it was tall, a slot leading down into a deep pit far below. The pit was a fetid, reeking pool of sewage and rotting carcasses.

But Zeffer knew that under all the filth was a great treasure trove. Over twenty years’ worth of confiscated valuables were lying at the bottom of this forsaken pit of despair…but who would ever be desperate enough to fish them out?

Zeffer turned around, stepping away from the cave. No, he couldn’t. How ridiculous to even entertain such an idea, he thought. His eyes flicked back to the cabin. He thought of luring another innocent mortal to the dungeon. He thought of throwing infants to the pigs, of Dario’s cold hands molesting him in the bath, of being forced upon Lilian once again…

Between all these thoughts, suddenly the cesspit didn’t seem like such a terrible place.

The day was short. Whatever he intended to do, he had to accomplish it quickly before the Dusks woke up. Zeffer cleared his racing thoughts and let his will decide. Suddenly he found himself grabbing a rope from the shed, tying one end to a tree trunk and feeding the other end into the cave. He disappeared in a flash, and his clothes pooled on the ground. A bat crawled out of his nightshirt and through the cave’s entrance with ease.

Once inside, Zeffer transformed back into his vampiric form. His face scrunched up tight before he splashed down into the putrid water. As a vampire, he wasn’t concerned about contracting a disease. But that didn’t make this venture any less disgusting as he dived to the bottom and skimmed for loot.

He lasted just ten minutes before his own revulsion got the better of him. Even in that short amount of time, he retrieved a decent haul of treasures and fastened them to the end of the rope. He escaped the cave in his bat form, then pulled up the rope and all his treasures with it.

Zeffer spent more time washing in the creek than he spent in the cave. No matter how hard he scrubbed, it simply wasn’t enough. It was as if the filth penetrated his skin and saturated him from the inside out. He could not scrub away his crimes against mortal kind, nor Dario’s violations, nor anything that had transpired here. He had done many heinous things for the greater good during his time as a vampire hunter. His time with the Dusks made those moments seem like child’s play.

Vampires were wicked creatures by nature. They had no choice but to steal the life out of others to survive. But Dario was no ordinary vampire, and the Dusk clan was no ordinary clan. Dario’s wickedness was out of no kind of necessity. His wickedness came from a demented place of desire. It was not the blood he sought, but the act of bloodshed. The fear and misery of others seemed to give him a special kind of thrill, not unlike an addict indulging in their favored drug.

Zeffer washed not only his body, but his bounty as well, and then he buried the treasures in his secret stash at the old stump. He would return for them when the time was right.

That time was fast approaching.

*

Construction was moving swiftly. With the help of their captives, Zeffer’s personal room would be complete before next year. The vampires dragged their captives out of the dungeon, forcing them to work under the darkness of night. They scattered lanterns and torches around the site to light the way for these non-vampiric peoples and watched them closely, seeing that they did not try to escape.

The stone foundation was nearly complete. Dario and Lilian stood on the roof of the cabin, overlooking the whole property while Zeffer moved stones with the captives. Zeffer turned his back for only a moment, then the satyr mother made a break for it. “Zeffer, get her!” barked Dario. Zeffer acted quickly, bounding towards her while Dario shouted threats at the others. The satyress didn’t get far before she was tackled to the ground.

Zeffer wrestled her back to her hooves, growling, “I expected as much from you! Lazy, good-for-nothing, goat! You’ve been nothing but trouble!”

“Put her back in the dungeon,” ordered Dario. “Do not let her out again! She has lost all work privileges indefinitely.”

The satyress thrashed and wriggled in Zeffer’s grip as he dragged her back to the open cellar door. A cloth gag was tied tightly around her head like all the others, muffling her screams. Zeffer threw her down into the cellar and jumped in after her, wrestling her back into her shackles. She wasn’t as plump and strong as she used to be. Her time in the dungeon had withered her like all the rest.

But some had been withering long before her, and when Zeffer returned to the site, he saw that another elven captive had finally dropped. Dario and Lilian stood beside his body, slumped lifelessly over the foundation. “Damn it!” cursed Dario. He gave the body a kick. “That’s two sets of hands we’ve lost today! What is wrong with you bloodbags? I swear, you get sicklier and more ornery by the generation! Perhaps if you backwater trash stopped fucking your relatives, we wouldn’t have this problem!”

He picked up the emaciated corpse and tossed it off the foundation. “Lilian, drain that and throw the rest to the pigs!” As Lilian set to work, he fished through his pocket and counted a handful of coins. Passing them to Zeffer, he said, “Go to Sodergen and pick up some supplements. Protein powder, fish oil, things of that nature. Whatever they recommend for those with weak, _pathetic_ constitutions…” He spat the word, glaring at the captives as he did so.

Zeffer nodded and stuffed the coins in his pocket. As he saddled the horse, Dario added, “I want itemized receipts for everything, and do not dally! If you’re not back by high sun tomorrow, I will send mercenaries to track you down and kill you. Are we clear?”

“Crystal, Mr. Dusk,” mumbled Zeffer, and then he rode down the path to the main road. Dario did not send him out often, but when he did, his threats and demands were always the same. Zeffer was not allowed to have his own funds. Even if he happened to find a coin lying on the ground, he was expected to give it to Dario for safe keeping.

Dario always gave him shopping lists that he was not allowed to deviate from, and gods help Zeffer if he forgot to ask for a receipt. He made that mistake once and only once, for he could never forget the “cavity search” that followed, just so Dario could be sure he wasn’t hiding a single thing from him.

Little did the clan master know, Zeffer had been hiding plenty from him this whole time. He made a detour to his secret stash in the woods. There he dug up the dirt at the base of a gnarled old stump, revealing the collection of little trinkets he’d stored away.

The time had come. After what he was forced to do to Lilian, Zeffer decided he would rather die than live under the Dusks’ tyranny for one more day. It was now or never, so he took his secret stash with him to the city of Sodergen. He camped on the outskirts until morning, then he donned his guise and pawned the trinkets, scattering them around various shops in all corners of the city so not to draw too much suspicion.

Even if the jewelry was recognized and linked to the murders, he didn’t intend to stick around long enough for it to matter. He would be either be dead or half-way to Frostbite Crag by tomorrow night, depending on how his plan went.

He used the money Dario gave him to buy the supplements he was asked for. Then, he took his secret funds to the local blacksmith.

“I’m looking for an iron collar. It has to be pure iron, and I need it to fit as snugly around my neck as possible,” Zeffer told the smithy, sliding his coins across the counter.

The smithy chuckled, “Ah! Getting up to some fun things in the bedroom, are we?”

“Sure,” Zeffer muttered, and a short time later, he left the city with an iron collar hidden away in his cloak. Sometimes Dario would fish through his bag and turn out his pockets, so he cut a secret sheath into the lining of his cloak.

Zeffer had a bit of weight on Dario. In a battle of pure muscle, he was sure he could overpower him. Still, they were of similar stature, and he was sure that the collar would fit Dario as tightly as it fit himself. The blacksmith gave him a little key to unlatch the device, but Zeffer threw it away on his ride back to the cabin. He wouldn’t need it for what he intended to do.

*

Zeffer arrived at the cabin by mid-morning. The Dusks were normally asleep at this hour, but as he stepped closer to the door, he heard sounds from inside. Sounds of thumping, Dario’s shouting, and Lilian’s crying. He reluctantly let himself in with his key and walked in on a scene he wasn’t unfamiliar with.

Some furniture was toppled, a lamp broken on the floor. Lilian was lying there among the shards in tears while Dario berated her over some mistake or another. Neither of them were dressed in their pajamas, and he realized they must have been awake all morning waiting for his return. Perhaps simple fatigue had put Dario in a fouler mood than usual.

Dario stopped shouting mid-sentence when Zeffer walked in the door. A brief, awkward silence passed between them. Zeffer cleared his throat, raised his rucksack and said, “I got the things you wanted.”

“Then make use of them!” Dario snarled, pulling the dungeon key off his neck. He threw it at Zeffer’s feet, then immediately returned to scolding Lilian.

_Perfect_ , thought Zeffer. He swiped the key, kicked the crate out of the way, and jumped into the dungeon. His hands trembled with both anxiety and excitement as he fished the collar out of his cloak. He placed it on the shelf, obscuring it behind some supplies.

Approaching the captives, Zeffer began quietly, his voice harried, “Listen. All of you, listen to me. You want to get out of here, right? You want to go back home, see your families again?”

The captives hesitated, clearly distrusting him. Still, they forced themselves to nod, silenced by their gags. Zeffer held up the key to the cellar, which also happened to unlock their shackles. “So do I,” he went on. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m no less a prisoner in this shit-hole than you are. I’m making my escape today. If you agree to help me, I swear I’ll set you all free.” His eyes were like cinders glowing in the darkness. They shifted to the mother satyr and he added, “You, the feisty one. Your baby is probably alive, and you still might be able to find her if I point you in the right direction. But I _need_ you to cooperate with me every step of the way. Do exactly as I say, and I will tell you what I did with her. Do we have a deal?”

The defiant satyress’ eyes rounded. Zeffer heard her gasp behind her gag, followed by a frantic nod. “Okay. This entire plan is resting on _your_ shoulders,” Zeffer told her. “Remember: that means my freedom, your freedom, and your sister’s freedom are at stake.” He tilted his head towards her sister, chained up just beside her. Jabbing the key against her chest for emphasis, he growled through his teeth, “Don’t. Fuck. This. Up.”

*

The front door flew open, startling Dario and Lilian. They whirled around to face Zeffer, who stammered, “M-Mr. Dusk, come quick! I-I need your help!”

He bolted back out the door before Dario could question him. Figuring it was urgent, the clan master beckoned Lilian and hurried after him. They snagged their cloaks on the way, shielding themselves from the sunlight. Dario followed him around to the cellar, shouting, “What is it? What’s going on?”

Zeffer stopped at the cellar, jumping on top of it as if to hold it closed. “One of the captives is loose! She’s running wild in there, armed with a harvesting knife!”

Dario’s brows nearly jumped off his face. “What?” he blurted. “How on Gaia—”

“We have to take her down quickly, before she breaks the others free! She could be a mage, for all we know!” interrupted Zeffer. The desperate urgency in his tone left no room for argument.

Thoroughly alarmed, Dario shoved him out of the way and growled, “Move! I’ll make quick work of the little wretch…”

“Please be careful, Mr. Dusk!” called Lilian. She watched anxiously as the clan master wrenched the door open and jumped down into the cellar. Zeffer jumped in just behind him.

Just as Zeffer said, the mother satyress was free from her shackles. She stood at the back of the dungeon with a harvesting knife clutched tightly in her quivering hand. Sunlight poured into the room from the open door, and she winced in its brightness as she turned to Dario.

“Drop the knife, bloodbag,” ordered Dario. The satyress regarded him with a cold, hard glare.

“Make me, _pig_ ,” she spat. Dario’s eyes flashed red with fury. He disappeared in a puff of smoke and reappeared right in front of her. Before the satyress knew it, she was slammed against the wall by her neck.

She tried to raise her knife, but Dario seized her wrist with his other hand and pinned it to the wall. He snarled, “You have five seconds to drop that weapon, or else I will—”

Dario froze, caught off-guard by a loud click and a sudden pressure around his neck. Just as he turned around, Zeffer’s fist collided with his face and he hit the floor. In that moment he lost his grip on the satyress, who dropped the knife and scrambled up the ladder. Zeffer heard Lilian screech outside, but paid her no mind as he tackled Dario, pinning him to the cold, stony floor.

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?” growled Dario. He writhed and thrashed, but without his magic, he stood no chance against the vampire hunter. “Lilian! Help me!” he called. Zeffer delivered another solid right hook to his face. Black blood sprayed the wall beside him and the captives let out muffled cheers.

Lilian shrieked again. The sound was much closer this time. Zeffer glanced back and saw her standing by the ladder, crying, “Zeffy! W-what are you doing? Stop, please!”

“ _Kill him_ , you stupid cunt!” bellowed Dario.

Zeffer silenced him with another punch to the head and shouted, “Shut up! Lilian, listen—”

He turned around to address her, then immediately raised his arm to defend himself. Lilian lunged at him with the harvesting knife in both hands. “Leave him alone!” she shrieked. Though she caught him by surprise, Zeffer was faster. He snatched her forearm and threw her down. Her grip on the knife loosened the second she hit the floor and he ripped it from her fingers.

Pressing the blade to Dario’s chest, he glared at Lilian and warned, “Don’t move! Nobody fucking move!”

A brief silence passed, tension thick in the air. Even the captives remained silent, sweating with anticipation. Turning back to Dario, Zeffer’s breath trembled as he seethed, “I travelled for months across Evangelite slave-country just to find you. I endured your beatings, your molestations, your unimaginable cruelty, and all your abuse. I did it because you have something of mine, and I want it back. Twenty-five years ago, you took something very important from me…”

Dario winced as the blade pierced through a few more layers of skin. A gush of black blood spread on his suit, just over his heart. “You stole my _life_ , Dario,” Zeffer continued. “Worse yet, you’re such a coward that you made your little slave steal it for you! You know, I didn’t even come here for you in the first place. I only wanted her blood…” He tipped his head towards Lilian, shivering on the floor with her fists clenched before her chin.

“…But after this nightmare, I’m thirsting for _yours_ more than the blood of any mortal!” Zeffer drove the knife in a little deeper, forcing a pained grunt from the clan master.

Lilian sobbed, “Zeffy, stop! Please, please don’t hurt him…!”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears, so Dario tried his hand and grunted, “Zeffer, my dear, sweet boy…You don’t have to do this! Please, we are both intelligent, rational men. We can discuss—”

“How can you speak such lies?” shouted Zeffer, slamming the clan master’s head against the floor. “Lies and madness, that all that’s ever come out of your wretched mouth since the day I met you! You’re a thief, a killer, and a degenerate rapist! You’re a delusional madman, Dario Dusk, and how you’ve managed to fool yourself—and this poor girl—into believing otherwise, I don’t even care to know!”

He leaned in closer, hissing through his teeth, “You never fooled me for a second. I see through all your illusions, and I know what you really are. You’re _ugly_ , Dario, inside and out. You lived all your life like a pig and you’ll _die_ like a pig. Good fucking riddance, you swine!”

With that, he plunged the knife deep into Dario’s chest. Lilian’s shriek echoed off the walls, high and shrill as Zeffer violently wrenched the blade in an arc. Finally, he tossed it to the floor and reached into the oozing, black cavity he had made.

Dario’s guise slipped away, revealing his hideous undead face in its true form. His eyes rounded wide, red irises glowing bright in the deep pits of his eye sockets. They watched helplessly as Zeffer ripped his black heart right out of his chest. Dario stared down at his own ugly heart, jaw slacked in disbelief. He reached one feeble, shaking hand up as if to grab it, as if to claim it again. But it was too late. His glowing eyes dimmed, then rolled back into his head. His hand dropped to his side before it ever reached his heart.

Dario died, and his horrid reign of terror died with him. At long, long last, the Dusk clan was no more.

The dungeon was noisy with Lilian’s panicked shrieks and rattling chains as the captives thrashed with excitement. Zeffer sunk his fangs into Dario’s heart. Lines deepened on his gray brow, nose scrunching at the foul taste of his blood. It was nearly unbearable. But Zeffer endured until the heart was drained and his mouth was full. Then, he grabbed Lilian’s face and locked her in a kiss.

The elfenne was already in shock. She flailed uselessly, unable to escape his grasp as he spit the blood into her mouth. He forced his lips upon hers, refusing to let her go. She sputtered and wriggled until she was forced to swallow the putrid ooze. The shock was too much for her, it seemed, for she fainted soon after.

Zeffer felt her body fall limp and gently lowered her to the floor. He watched her for a moment. She was cold, still, and mottled, having lost control of her guise. If he didn’t know better, he could have mistaken her for a corpse. She clearly wasn’t going anywhere, so Zeffer stepped away from her to fulfill his promise. He began unlocking the captives’ shackles.

When he reached the satyr mother’s sister, he told her, “I took the baby about five minutes down the north road by horseback. I left her with goblin migrants. Five Serkelites, heading northbound. Make your way to Folkvar Capital and you’re sure to run into them eventually.”

Once her wrists were free, the satyress ripped the gag off her face and sobbed, “Thank you! Oh, thank you!” She tossed her arms around Zeffer’s neck, trapping him in a squeezing embrace. He didn’t feel worthy enough to hug her back, so he didn’t, and she made a swift exit up the ladder where her sister waited.

After just a few minutes, the last captive disappeared outside. Zeffer took a long look at the trough. A small pang of grief tugged at him, but he knew it was just his disease fussing at the sight of an empty blood-dungeon. In his true, mortal heart, the sight brought him joy.

Zeffer’s head was buzzing. He didn’t know what to think or how to feel, moving like an automaton as he looted the cabin for all it was worth. He loaded up a pushcart with boxes and bags, the very same cart that was used to haul the water keg from the creek. Once it was full, he attached it to the horse and returned to the cabin.

There was a large can of lamp oil in the cabinet. Zeffer picked it up and dribbled its contents over Dario’s favorite chair, across the floor, over the dining table and into the bedroom. He scattered the last of it all over the wretched, shackled bed, then made his way through the front doorway and pulled a book of matches from his back pocket. He struck the match on his boot and tossed it on the sitting room floor. The blaze roared to life in an instant.

While the fire grew, Zeffer ran down the trail to the pig pen and pulled the gate wide open. He whistled and slapped at the wood, making a ruckus that scared them into a frenzy. The pigs flooded out of their pen in a squealing wave, finally free of their miserable prison. Now there was just one thing left to do.

He returned to the dungeon. Lilian was still lying on the floor, unconscious, but she did not look the same. Zeffer was startled by the transformation. Her hideous black veins had left her, and a healthy beige tone returned to her flesh without the help of her guise. But without her guise, Zeffer noticed something he hadn’t before. She was covered in bruises, cuts, and puncture marks from head to toe.

His fists curled at his sides. She certainly hadn’t done this to herself. He glanced over at Dario’s lifeless body, rotting away in the corner of the dungeon. His eyes and mouth were wide open, hands rigid, as if locked in a state of disbelief at his own demise. Death was clearly his greatest fear in life. He never, ever wanted to die. He’d bent over backwards and sacrificed innocents for centuries just to stay alive.

_Well, too bad for him_ , thought Zeffer. Try as he may not, he just couldn’t find a single shred of pity for the man. Lilian, on the other hand…

He gathered the elfenne and carried her out of the dungeon. Laying her in the cart, he covered her with a sheet before climbing onto his horse. At last, they were leaving this cursed place behind. The flames raged behind them, quickly consuming the cabin and cleansing it of the evil miasma that permeated its walls.

After twenty-five long-suffering years, Zeffer had completed his mission. Perhaps not in the way he planned, but in a way that set his soul at ease.

*

Lilian’s eyes fluttered open. She awoke to a world of darkness. A jolt of panic shot through her veins, for she hadn’t known darkness in a very long time. Had she gone blind? She flailed her limbs, kicking the sheet away. The darkness gave way to bright, afternoon sun, which didn’t settle her vampiric nerves either. She hid under the sheet again with a shriek.

The sound caught Zeffer’s attention. He stopped the horse under the shade of a great conifer and quickly dismounted, rushing to the cart. Gently, he pulled the sheet away from Lilian and assured her, “It’s okay! It’s okay, you won’t burn. I promise.”

“Zeffy! W-where…?” Lilian looked all around, brown eyes blown wide. They were on an unfamiliar, forested stretch of road. Judging by the position of the sun, they were headed south. The elfenne was left speechless in utter confusion. She slowly examined her surroundings, taking everything in as if piecing together distant memories. Zeffer stood before her, red eyes glowing beneath the shadows of his hood. His cloak was draped over him, shielding him from the sun. He was still a vampire, it seemed.

But was she? Lilian looked down at her hands, all beige and covered in nicks. She touched her face. It was warm with coursing, mortal blood.

“I…I’m not a…?” she trailed off, snapping her gaze towards Zeffer.

“You’re cured,” he told her. There was a solemn edge to his voice, despite his little smile. “You get to start all over. Live a normal, happy life. Hurray for you.”

Lilian paused for a long moment, sitting with the odd sensation of life in her body. It was so foreign, yet familiar, like an old friend she hadn’t spoken to in ages. “But…” she began, gesturing vaguely. “Zeffy, you…you needed my heart to…”

“I know,” he sighed, scrubbing at his weary face.

Lilian blinked, jaw falling slack. “But now you can never…”

“I know.”

“B-but why? Zeffy, _why_?” she gasped.

Zeffer leaned forward on the edge of the cart. “Because,” he began, “you didn’t deserve to die. All this time, I thought you were my worst enemy. But I was wrong; I realized that the first time I saw that monster put his hands on you. You were no less a victim than I was. I thought about what kind of person I’d be if I traded your life for my mortality…” He shook his head. “No. Fuck that. My hands are soaked with blood as it is. I’ve seen what guilt can do to people. I’m too much of a coward to carry that burden.”

With that, he left her side and climbed back on the horse. The cart began rolling again. Lilian turned around in her makeshift seat, facing Zeffer’s back. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“I heard there’s a little village near Frostbite Crag,” replied Zeffer. “I have a few friends there, and I know they’ll be good to you. They’re Good Guys.”

**END**

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this story, kudos and feedback are very much appreciated.
> 
> DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD! Dario was the very first villain of the Looming Gaia series, making his debut all the way back in “Monster by Moonlight”. He’s been the main villain of several stories since then too. So while I consider him a pretty iconic character in this series, boy was I excited to finally kill the fucker. He’s terrorized our poor protagonists for long enough.
> 
> Early on in his development, I was reading about psychopaths, cult leaders, and serial killers to get a better understanding of how to write him. I took a lot of inspiration from Jim Warren Jones (“The Jonestown Massacre”) and David Parker Ray (“The Toybox Killer”) in particular. I had a miserable time researching these awful people, and I had a miserable time writing this awful story until the very end. That sweet ending was the only thing that kept me going through this one, much like Zeffer pushing through his horrible trials to get his mortality back. I’m right there with ya, Zef. This godforsaken adventure was a doozy.
> 
> Speaking of Zeffer, what a guy! Will he get himself and Lilian to Drifter’s Hollow in one piece? Will the villagers even accept a vampire in their midst? Subscribe to the series and find out! New installments come out roughly once a month. See you guys in 2021!


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